419 South Illinois, Conrad, Montana 59425
I wrote this poem about five years ago while my husband was
working on the restoration of a 1930 Case L tractor. I am sure many
wives can relate to the ‘old iron bug’ that seems to take
over a husband’s mind as soon as he hears the first
‘pop’ of a flywheel engine. My husband has been a
subscriber to GEM for years and looks forward to future issues.
‘Oh, she’s a good ole’ gal,’ he says, his eyes
lit up with pride.
‘A real beauty, ain’t she?’ he asks. His smile is
three feet wide.
I think he’s talking about me his wife and I almost start to
Until I realize that the ‘She’ he means is a pile of iron
Yes, my husband has the ‘old iron’ bug and I fear he
will never be cured.
Since he started this hobby of his, oh, the things I have had to
Driving with him is a risky matter when he’s in
He looks behind every tree for treasures and forgets to watch the
When restoring an old tractor he spends long hours in the
Building, grinding, tuning, painting it never seems to stop!
So I keep his meals warm for him and remind him to stop and
He lets me see the progress he’s made the tractor now has a
When the project is finally done, revealed in all its
A fully restored old tractor, from the radiator to the
My husband smiles at me and says, ‘Now I can take a
Let’s take a drive in the country maybe go to the
As we drive along the road I think now I have my husband
But wait what’s this he’s spied half hidden behind a
He slams on the brakes, (we almost hit a tree!)
He runs over to the shack and I hear him yell,
For there sits a pile of iron and rust just waiting for him to
Looks like he’s found himself a new treasure
HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!