The tractor seat has moved past comfort,
Into the recesses of time,
Each wheel has watched the rubber go,
The steel on those metal rings are bending,
The front small pair, with rims in line, where the rust has slowly taken over.
Look at it here and picture the tone, of the engine singing it’s song,
The pop, pop, pop, of the throttle, moving its core from the handle to exhaust, blowing puffs of smoke,
And the rear wheels, turning in your mind, cutting through the tall grass, the smell of diesel,the heat blowing back toward you, and life rolling another day of memories.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Ralph Peck
Old Highway 88 / Oologah Oklahoma
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