Senile, Who, Me?

I recently bought a 1949 Ford 8N farm tractor which I plan to use for snow removal in the coming winters.  My thoughts ran to installing a loader, and, in turn, in some manner attaching a snow plow of some kind to the bucket on the loader.  I spotted an advertisement on Craigslist for an old loader located some 40 miles from my home.

As I have no equipment with which I could bring a heavy loader to my home, I enlisted the aid of my nephew Les.  He owns a larger than average Ford 350 pickup, and has a flatbed trailer attached with a fifth-wheel hitch.  He agreed to go with me to look at the loader, and if I bought it he’d cart it home for me.  A good plan.

He asked me to drive to his home so he wouldn’t have to turn his long rig around at my place.  I was a bit concerned to learn he had misgivings about turning a truck around on my 10 acres, but I drove to his home with my 2014 Jeep anyway.  After parking in his yard we proceeded on to our destination.

I bought the old loader, and the former owner said he would load it on Les’ trailer for us.  He started an old Ford 800 tractor, and attached a boom pole to the three-point arms.  This is an approximately 6 foot long pole used to lift heavier objects.  His tractor ran out of gas.  After adding some gas, the battery was dead.  He jumpered the battery using a separate battery apparently kept for this purpose, and got it running again.  With a moderate amount of confusion we finally got the thing loaded on the trailer.

Les drove us back to my home where I used my recently purchased 8N to tow it off onto the ground where it landed upside down.  Just then my nephew Don and his pretty wife Diana drove into the yard after driving all the way from Alabama.  After conversing in the yard for a few minutes Les decided to go home while I entered my home with the guests for a nice afternoon chat.

Later that evening my wife asked me where my Jeep was.  I told her it was in the front yard where it is always parked as far as I knew.  She said, “No, it’s not.”  I looked out to discover she seemed correct, I couldn’t see it either.  I searched my memory (what I have) to try to think if I had left it out back for some reason.  I couldn’t recall having it out there for any reason.  I was about to panic and call the State Police to report it stolen, but I had the keys in my pocket.  How had a thief managed that?

My wife casually asked, “Did you leave it at Les’?

Uh, yes, I did.