Pullin' Tractors and Heart Strings

Summer doesn't really become official until you've contemplated the Mother of All Culinary Regrets: The Funnel Cake.

It also might not really be Summer until you have caught a fish, participated in a tractor pull, or tossed a water balloon at a mock George W. Bush. Or been heckled by a carny, churned your belly on the Tilt-a-Whirl, or scrubbed your hands with 2.3 gallons of hand-sanitizer.

Because it's not really Summer until you empty the contents of your wallet at a County Fair.

As if doughy puffs of deep-fried, sugary goodness aren't enough of a draw, we read in the paper about a "Kids Pedal Tractor Pull Competition" at the community fair. If there's a better recipe for guaranteed good times in our household than mixing miniature tractors with a ferris wheel and large volumes of sugar, I have yet to find it. So, with high hopes and a roll of Tums, Max and I headed off to the Fair.

It did not disappoint.


Uncle Sam teaching Max to aim for either the President of the United States or a blank picture that he suggested could be his baby brother. Good, old fashioned, 'Merican values are being taught at these fairs, people.


The Ferris Wheel before it started moving. After the ride ended, our facial expressions were reversed. Max was all smiles and I was forcing the gastric juices back to their rightful place.


Tractor Pull Misson Statement: "Regardless of the outcome, it is the mission of the show director to positively uplift each child and help create a more healthy self-esteem."


Other than just letting him ride a tractor, Cowboy Damon didn't have to do too much to positively uplift Max.



Notice how hard Max is working just to reach the pedals.

And they're off! Except that Max didn't want to get off the tractor. Ever. At the age of four, Max had achieved Nirvana, found Valhalla, and discovered his Opus. Tractors and Showmanship.. a winning combination.

And then, when the banjo music was over and the blue ribbons were distributed and the cheering crowds had scrambled off the hay bales and over to the Arcade, Max remained. Stunned by the silence and the rush of such a monumental experience.

It was over. Alone on the tractor tarmac, he appeared dazed by the dizzyness of fame.

And while I struggled to find the words to say "There's always next year, baby," and wondered how this was going to be good again, a friend appeared offering to treat The Champ to a snow cone.

Who knew? It appears that Pina Colada syrup colliding with grape goop in a puddle of shaved ice is the healing elixir of tractor pullers everywhere.


As we were leaving, Max stopped to admire the fishing tank set up by a local sportsman's club. 2 bucks per fish.

Which, of course, led to some angling.


Best line of the day (pun intended), came from a man nearby who was watching the young man and the sea.

"I'll pay two bucks to watch that kid catch another fish."

And he did.


Fresh Rainbow Trout with Yogurt Dill Sauce and chilled Chardonnay.



Way better than a Funnel Cake.