Drago loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have. Chances are they pale in the face of Drago’s love for tractors.
Chapter 1
Drago lived in a tractor-themed house, with tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets. Every day he would get up in his tractor-themed bedroom, make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets, and get changed out of his tractor-themed pajamas. Then he would go downstairs into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards. And he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Drago’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, besides a copy of his thesis, which was on a topic related to - you guessed it - tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including a wide range of die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Drago’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Drago just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life. He had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Drago had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Drago was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
Chapter 2
One day, Drago was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Drago answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Accie.
Drago welcomed Accie in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Drago pressed Accie to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Accie, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Drago had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, and lawnmowers. But most importantly, there would be tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Drago, “But what of your visit? I take it you have some sort of special news?”
“Very much so” said Accie. Drago could tell that Accie was struggling to contain his glee.
“I’ve heard a word on the grapevine that a Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 will be there”.
Drago nearly choked on his tea. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000. Drago immediately ran to the cabinet where he kept his tractor publications, and started rifling through the various annuals and magazines, before he found what he was looking for: this year's edition of Forbes Comprehensive Guide to Top Tractors. He flicked through the pages until he was satisfied, and then excitedly showed the result to Accie.
“You mean this?” he gestured gleefully, stabbing his finger at the page. It was a review of the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000, and was it ever glowing. This was the tractor that Drago had been searching for his whole life.
“Oh yes” said Accie, “The very same one.”
“Then when we go, we absolutely have to try it”, said Drago.
The convention was three weeks away, but Drago could not contain his excitement. Every day he would spend hours reading up on the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 in every detail. He would struggle to sleep at night over the excitement of seeing the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 for the very first time. And when he finally did succumb to slumber, he would dream of owning a Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 of his very own.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, the day came.
Chapter 3
As per every year, Drago and Accie were both first in line when the convention opened. They had camped out the night before, just outside the entrance to where the convention was to take place. Drago had even purchased a tractor-themed sleeping bag for the purpose. As soon as they paid the entrance fee, they set about, scurrying through every exhibit.
Drago pored over every item on display. He spent hours making notes on tractor designs that he saw, and simply admiring the machinery on display. The entire time he was struggling to contain his excitement at the prospect of seeing the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000, and he told himself that he would reward himself by saving that for last. However, the time eventually came where he could wait no longer, and he started looking specifically for the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000.
It took a while to find the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000, as the exhibition was so vast. But, after some searching, Drago stopped dead in his tracks. There it was. The gorgeous Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000.
The enormous machine was surrounded by a huge crowd, so Drago had to barge and push his way to the front to get a better view. He gawked at the specification of the thing. It held the world-tractor speed record (98 mph). It had the smoothest ride, the best suspension, the biggest tires, and the best overall performance of any tractor in the world. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 was unmatched.
Then Drago spotted something that almost made his heart explode.
A sign read “FREE RIDES WITH INSTRUCTOR TODAY. EXPERIENCE THE TARROCK-FUCHS XM1-5000 FOR YOURSELF!”
Drago steadied himself, took an aspirin, and then headed over to the small booth, were a line had formed of people wanting to drive the Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000. Today would really be the best day of his life.
Chapter 4
Finally the time came where Drago reached the front of the line, and he found himself in the driver's seat of the magnificent marvel that embodied everything a tractor wanted to be. Drago’s heart bounced as his foot squeezed on the accelerator pedal. The great beast lumbered gently forwards, and Drago was ecstatic. His dreams were coming true.
“Steady as she does it” advised the instructor as the tractor gradually gathered pace. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 was gliding seamlessly over the rough terrain, the state-of-the-art suspension cushioning the ride with ease. It felt like the perfect blend of Rolls-Royce comfort with military-grade off-road performance.
Suddenly the instructor glanced at Drago. Something was wrong.
Drago’s pupils were dilated. He was sweating profusely. His sweat-drenched hands were clamped onto the steering wheel in a death grip. His face was heavily contorted.
“Drago?” asked the instructor nervously. Drago did not respond. His condition did not improve. His foot descended further on the accelerator pedal. The tractor gathered speed.
“Drago?!” the instructor half-shouted. But it was no use.
The many years that Drago had studied and waited for this moment, were becoming too much for him. It was an accumulation of all those hopes and dreams, the hours spent pouring over magazines, the nights spent dreaming about this very moment. He was in a trance, and experiencing a level of bliss like nothing he'd ever experienced before. His psyche was so overwhelmed with the emotion and excitement of this moment, that it was unable to cope with the extreme level of joy he was experiencing, and he was becoming disconnected from reality. It was as though he was paralysed; he was fully aware of his situation, but unable to do anything about it.
At this point, the tractor was seriously gathering speed. The smooth ride was gone, now the tractor was bouncing over the field at over fifty miles an hour.
“DRAGO!” bellowed the instructor. He desperately tried to take control. He grabbed the steering wheel, but Drago’s iron grip would not yield. Drago’s foot was now firmly buried in the throttle; being in the world’s fastest tractor was now a matter of life and death.
The instructor turned to look ahead, and was horrified by what he saw. They had travelled so far that they were almost at the end of the field. At the field’s edge was a deep ditch. The tractor, although now racing at full pelt, would never make the jump.
The instructor grabbed Drago and tried to wrestle him from the controls, but it was no use. Drago’s loss of bodily consciousness was carrying them both towards almost certain doom. The instructor made one last, fruitless attempt to recover Drago’s senses, before turning and leaping clear.
Drago knew what was happening, but he had no way of stopping what was coming next. His eyes wide in horror, and his foot still glued to the floor, the tractor hurled off the edge of the field and into oblivion.
Chapter 5
Drago’s vision was ablaze. His head was spinning, and he could barely hear or see. His hearing was clouded, as though someone had fired a gun in close proximity to his ear. He could only hear what sounded like muffled shouting. He tried to move, but he was trapped beneath the wreckage.
The next thing he felt was a pair of arms grabbing him by his upper body. His vision started to clear. He could see the shapes of people moving around him. They were clearing the wreckage so they could drag him out. Blurred figures were running towards the ruined tractor – now starting to catch fire – with fire extinguishers.
Something that pinned him was moved away, and he was free. Several people grabbed him, dragging him to his feet, and half-carried him to a waiting ambulance. Drago was dazed; he couldn’t make sense of anything.
Chapter 6
Drago was taken for a thorough examination at the local hospital. Miraculously he hadn’t broken anything, although he had a concussion and severe bruising. The Tarrock-Fuchs XM1-5000 had not been kind to him.
His family came to visit him, along with the tractor instructor and several other officials from the show. Luckily the tractor instructor had sustained only minor injuries from his fall. Drago apologised profusely. He realized he'd nearly killed the man, and was struggling to forgive himself for what he'd done.
Drago was eventually discharged from the hospital, with a full set of therapy sessions booked in. His excitement at the prospect of driving a tractor for the first time had been brewing for over thirty years, but when the chance finally came, it had boiled over in the moment in a way that was almost fatal.
Chapter 7
Drago mulled over the events of that fateful day for several long weeks. Eventually, he came to a shocking, life-changing decision.
He did not like tractors any more.
Within the next week, his house was stripped bare. Out went the tractor bedsheets. Out went the tractor pyjamas. Out went the tractor wallpaper, crockery, magazines, books, DVDs, carpets, shirts, the lot. Drago wanted nothing more than to rid his life of infernal tractors.
When he had gutted the house, and all his tractor-themed possessions were filling several skips at the front of his house, Drago sat down on his front porch, and burst into tears.
Chapter 8
Months later, Drago was sat in his local pub, surrounded by empty jars of ale. Without tractors, he was nothing. He had turned to drink for solace, and he had spent many a penny at his local watering hole, drowning his sorrows. Most of the pub regulars kept a wide berth from him. He had previously been known locally as Tractor Man, but now any mention of those machines near Drago sparked bouts of post-traumatic-stress, so everyone knew to give him space.
Drago sat silently, contemplating his future. It was looking bleak; now that tractors had been removed. Something had to fill the void. But he had no idea what could.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. No…someone.
A young, blond-haired girl was sat in the corner of the pub, alone. Her body language suggested strongly that she didn’t want to be there. She wasn’t drinking; she was simply sat still, staring into space.
Drago felt some compulsion to approach her. So he did.
“Excuse me” he murmured as he stepped up to her table. The girl looked up. She had the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
“Do you need any help?” he asked.
The girl invited him to sit down, and she told her story. Her name was Sue, and she had once been the landlady at this very pub. She had inherited it through three successive generations, and was very proud.
During Sue’s time, the pub had enforced a smoking ban, and she had enjoyed the clean air. But a few months ago, a highly litigious gentleman had visited her pub, and insisted that he should be able to smoke wherever and whenever he jolly well pleased. Sue had tried to reason with him, asking him first to stop smoking, or to do it outside. But eventually she was forced to ask him to leave.
Things turned out badly. Enraged, the man had taken the pub to court. There he managed to swing the jury into letting him win a case against Sue on counts of discrimination. Sue had to sell the pub to cover her legal costs, and the smoking ban was lifted. Now, all smokers in the town had flocked to the pub, as it was one of the very few in town where smoking was allowed, and were reveling in the new found freedom. All the while, Sue grew sadder that her pub, her beloved baby, had fallen awry under her tenure of care.
Chapter 9
Drago looked around. The pub was indeed stuffed with acrid, black smoke. The accompanying putrid stench was unbearable.
On cue, Drago stood up. In one deep, almighty breath, he sucked the entire bar clean of the dirty, acrid smoke. No-one in the bar had ever seen anything like it. With one almighty puff Drago had cleared out the foul stench and the bar smelled as clear as the fresh air of a country field on a summer’s day.
Drago swallowed, and calmly sat down. Sue was ecstatic.
“Drago!” she exclaimed, so surprised she was struggling for words, “That was amazing! How on earth did you do that?!”
“Well,” said Drago proudly, sitting up straight,
“I’m an ex-tractor fan”.
