Vernon returned from feeding this morning with an idea to attend an auction. I grabbed some coats, threw myself together (thank goodness for baseball caps!) and we were off!
While there’s the appeal of buying something you need or want or justcan’tpassupthisdeal… you can’t help but feel for the guy selling out.
Cars and pickups littered the driveway… we parked in a dried up field with scattered corn husks spotting the dirt. Some buyers were serious, pulling flatbed trailers behind mud spattered trucks.
We joined in the buyers’ walk, listening as the auctioneers called for bids on wrench sets, hammers, and shovels. Wandering through the ranks of tractors, discs, balers, corral poles, and wire, you meet with friends and neighbors… Talk about the weather, the price of cattle, and kids. Stick your hands in your pockets and kick the dirt while starting to shiver in the slight breeze. Admire the creativity in the home built feeder or skid for a diesel tank. Listen to the engine as someone starts up the old Ford to see how it runs.
Decide that the equipment you were interested in isn’t that interesting after all…
Walk past the crowd, the auctioneer, the line of vehicles, and cross the dry field to your pickup for your return home… Where you hope like hell you don’t ever have to hold an auction.