On July 30th, 2010 we crossed an important threshold. At precisely 8:22 pm that same day, we metamorphosed from City Folks Posing As Farmers from the Lofty Confines of our Minivan to Bona Fide On Our Way to Full-Fledged Farmerdom. That is to say we bought a truck. A farm truck. What is it, exactly, that differentiates a regular truck from a farm truck, you ask? Good question. It’s one we’ve been asking ourselves for months as we casually perused the Craigslist offerings for pick-up trucks. First off, it must be strong enough to haul the mountains of firewood we’ll be using in lieu of propane this winter and for many winters to come. Check. It must have an extended cab to accommodate our family of four. Check. It should be diesel, to allow for the option of running biodiesel in the future. Yes………no. Not yet.
It must not be too pretty, too jacked up, too bad-ass, too technologically advanced, or too meticulously kept up. Check, check, and check. As a farm truck, it is everything it should be but not a smidge more. It’s old, but not too old. The body is in fair shape and structurally sound, but we won’t lose a minute of sleep if (when) it gets dirty or dusty or inhabited temporarily by sheep in transit. It has power windows and locks – powered by our biceps, that is, which conveniently means we won’t ever have to worry about fixing a faulty switch. There’s no air conditioning, but we’ve rediscovered the efficacy of the wings – those triangular windows engineered to blast the cool air squarely at you. The AM radio is scratchy at best, but encourages hearty conversation. Cruise control seems an extravagance and as such has no place in this vehicle. The truck is a sturdy work horse beast and we’ve lost no time blasting through months and months of repressed ‘if only we had a truck, we could…’ tasks. Antiquated, unwieldy organ inherited with family cottage: gone. We loaded that sucker up and hauled it off to a new life at Goodwill. Piles of firewood too daunting for aforementioned minivan and toy-size trailer: hauled. Or at least a dent was put into the piles. A small one. Mulch for chicken coop and garden, donated by fellow townies and chipped for all to use for free: forked and loaded and piled high.
Pretty good progress for 4 days of truck-ownership. Did I mention that it was blue?
Another blue thing which is long overdue for mention is the Whizbang Do-it-Yourself Chicken Plucker that Andrew built for our little butchering exercise. After much arduous research, he decided upon ordering the Whole Shebang kit, complete with instructions for building our very own super-powered plucker. May I just say one thing about it? It was the cat’s ass. It plucked 2-3 birds at a time, in less than thirty seconds. Plucked them to near-perfection. Those of you that have never spent hours pulling pin feathers from the tail end of a chicken can’t fully appreciate just how miraculous this is, but trust me – it’s the cat’s ass.
Here’s a little video of the oh-so-proud plucking master himself. Be forewarned that there are dead chickens in there, in the process of losing all their feathers. Just sayin.’