Just look at that face! The tractors of the American landscape are true unsung heroes. They have been willing to do our bidding from the early morning starlight to the last ray of golden sun.
We had a tractor barn on the farm in south Texas. The earth beneath the tires of that big John Deer was ground to a very fine soft powder. I loved feeling it sift between my toes; it smelled of oil and gasoline. It meant work well done.
You don’t need to hear the engine sputter and purr, or feel the jerk of a gear in place to know their service.
It is written all over their face.