Posted on July 17, 2008 - by Hubba

At the Docs, Part 1

I got the chance yesterday to visit a place I hadn’t been to for twelve years, a place where I worked for two weeks each in the summers of ‘95 and ‘96.  It brought back a whole flood of memories of those four weeks, so I think I’m going to do almost a mini-novel of my experience.  Here we go…

I drove into Dr. Kovarik’s yard yesterday, and the first thing I saw was the Hail Mary Swather.  Like an old lady at gymnastics class, she was trying to give the appearance that she could do a full days work.

The Hail Mary Swather was an old lady when I met her in ‘95.  My dad volunteered me to work on Dr. Kovarik’s ranch for two weeks that summer.

It was really fitting, in a way, because it was like paying for my birth.  Dr. Kovarik delivered me and ten of my brothers and sisters.  If it wasn’t for Dr. Kovarik, I reckon I wouldn’t be here.

But Doctor Kovarik can be very intimidating, has made frugality into a science, and likes having things done his way.  I apparently am not very frugal, found it impossible to do anything correctly, and I was scared to death.  Doc had a deep sonorous voice like the Voice of God, and if I wasn’t looking at him, I would jump every time he spoke.

My whole term of employment began to play out like a bad comedy.  My nervousness, coupled with machinery that was on it’s last legs and a few moments when I wasn’t paying attention led to an almost seamless stream of blunders, until no one was sure I could even blow my nose correctly.

I think it was the third day I was there, the Voice of God said, “Well, I think I’ll put you on the Hail Mary Swather today.”  I gave the nervous laugh I had perfected in the previous two days and asked “Why- why do you call it the Hail Mary Swather?”

“Because,” said the Voice of God “you make a round, then you oil the chain and say a Hail Mary before you make another round.”  The only part of this operation I thought I could do correctly was say the Hail Mary.  I was getting pretty good at that anyway.

We went out, fired the old gal up, and drove to the hay field.  The Hail Mary Swather might have been designed by Moses.  She was ancient.  When she was new, she had been red, but she had faded to a rust color.  Instead of having a small, sexy reel like new swathers did, her reel was massive.  It looked like it had been the paddle on a steamboat.

One nice thing about her was she didn’t have very many controls at all.  Of course there were no labels on the controls, but the Voice of God indicated which lever did what, and soon me and the Hail Mary Swather were getting along fairly well.

Dr. Kovarik made a round with me, showed me where the oil can was, and left.  I oiled the chain, said a Hail Mary, and went back to work.

After a round or two, I began to relax.  I am allergic to hay, and the Hail Mary Swather didn’t have a cab, so I was physically miserable, but I was finally doing something more or less correctly, and didn’t have the good Doctor scrutinizing my every move.

But apparently I got too relaxed and forgot to say one of my Hail Mary’s, because as I was swathing away, the front right wheel fell off.  I damn near jumped off, it scared me so bad.  The front right wheel, I discovered was fixed to the axle by a cotter key, which had broken.  I lugged the tire up the steps onto the platform, and began to drive my two-legged swather (she only had one in the back) to the house.

It took me forty-five minutes, because I kept going in big circles.