In the winter of 1996 I enrolled at Lane Community College near Eugene and took a course of study in Agricultural and Industrial Equipment Technology. After completing two terms I received a certificate in Diesel Electrical Systems. An alumni of the course, who was a shop foreman on a grass seed farm out of Harrisburg asked the teacher if any students would be interested in a seasonal job. I raised my hand and the job was offered to me. Basically I became the chief grease monkey operating a service truck and running from field to field each morning servicing farm equipment. This work consisted of filling fuel tanks, checking oil levels, greasing the machines, blowing out radiators and air filters. Don’t remember doing much electrical work. Shop work was more of the same working on fork lifts, trucks, machinery in the warehouse and running into Harrisburg for parts once or twice a week. Most of the equipment was operated by local high school students. Whenever one of them did not show up in the morning or have to leave before the end of the day it was me that replaced them in the cab of a combine. This was monotonous work going round and around with four other combines equipped with pickup headers going wherever the windrows took us. The north wind would be blowing and the dust would follow us, sometimes going ahead of the machine where we could not see much beyond the cab. By late afternoon my eyelids would start getting heavy and the fear of falling asleep would overtake me, even with the a/c and radio going. Sometimes I would have to slap myself to stay awake in fear of the combine wandering off course and going in some nearby ditch. The days were long, 10 to 14 hours depending on the air moisture in the evenings. At the end of the day there would be some trucks filled grass seed that had to be driven back to the warehouse and emptied. It would be 10 or 11 pm some nights when I got back home in Eugene. The next day I would be up and gone by 7 am to beat the rush hour traffic. My lunch box had enough food for lunch and dinner. Sunday night dinners were provided by the farm consisting of a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and all the side dishes for those working that day. It was delivered out in the field to each combine or tractor operator to eat while working. I definitely don’t care for that stuff anymore. By mid-August most combine work was done and all hands had to operate a tractor to work the fields in preparation for seeding next year’s crop. Burning of grass seed straw was no longer permitted and the straw had to be worked back into the ground by plowing, disking, and harrowing until the soil was almost turned into to dust. This work would end each day by 5 pm and usually completed by end of September when I was laid off for the season. There was no overtime for this work and during periods of rain the crew was laid off until things dried out, sometimes for up to a week. If we worked the entire season until we got laid off we received a bonus check near Christmas time.
I continued doing this job for the next four summers. One morning in August of 2000, while driving north on I-5 to the farm I missed the Harrisburg turnoff and did not realize it until I saw the sign for the Brownsville Exist. It was time to call it quits, plus Celia and I were getting ready to move into our house in Cottage Grove and get married in October. I could not imagine adding another 20 miles to the daily commute. No bonus check was received that year.
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