I Stole the Tractor Seat

Not the missing seat...
Not the missing seat…

I stole a tractor seat last night. It was dark and raining, I pulled in the yard and called Mike.

“Hey, where is the tractor parked?”


“The tractor. He’s not in the shop and they aren’t answering the phone.”

“You’re there?! Are they home?”

“Yeah, I was going to grab some breakfast sausage if they had some.”

“See if you can get a scoop of coffee too. We’re out.”

(We are good thieves. Haha!)

“The doors locked. Tractor?”

“Oh yeah, it’s (over there)”

“K. Bye”

Of all days to not wear boots, of course today would be that day. I hopped out and ran across the yard splashing through the mud. In the dark and managed to find the seat. It was heavier than I expected. I tossed it into the back of the car and drove out.

A few miles down the road my phone rang.

“Hi mom”

“Hi. You called?”

I didn’t tell her I stole the seat. I’m just going to let them think they’re going nuts until Christmas. You see, my dad is one of the hardest people to shop for. His list usually goes like this:

“Dad what do you want for Christmas?

“Three happy children and a sassy wife.” (that’s where mom gives him “the look” and rolls her eyes).

So helpful. Over the years I’ve been forced to get creative (like stealing his tractor seat). I put handful of nuts and bolts in the boxes so he can’t shake them and guess what’s in them (he’s always right) and so on.

My sister sent a text the other day:

“What are you doing for mom and dad for Christmas? I need ideas.”

“I stole dad’s tractor seat and am making mom a doily.”


I can picture the look on her face when she read that. Her fiancé on the other hand was probably wondering what the heck was going on that this would not be found odd. She was used to such replies from me. One year I was wrapping presents and mom had just bought a case of toilet paper. I wrapped that up and put my brother’s name on it. (He did get something besides that that year. I don’t remember what.) I have also been known to wrap unfinished gifts- knitting still on the needles, or leather projects in pieces and then finish them after Christmas. So a stolen tractor seat was really nothing new.

This past summer we had dad’s tractor at our farm for a second set of wheels. On his way home with it this fall, the seat must have flown off the tractor while on the trailer. We all drove the stretch of road between their house and ours slowly for a week or so scanning the ditches for a black tractor seat. It was never found. I ordered a new seat for him, wrong color of course. But I did manage to get the order fixed and a black one was on its way. That’s when Mike called me at work.

“I was just at your dad’s looking at a goat waterer. It looks like he’s planning to make a new seat for the M. He’s got one sitting on it. He could take it take it apart and cut it to size. You should see if your mom can hide it or keep him from working on it for a while. Just in case.”

After she didn’t answer the phone and the door was locked that night, she missed her chance to get in on the Christmas plot, I took matters into my own hands.

I stole the tractor seat.

Christmas morning the old tractor seat was returned and a new one was wrapped and waiting. Mom’s doilies turned out nice too.


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