Row after row of tractors, cutters, wagons, sprayers, rakes, tedders, mixers, dryers, skid steers and more. Stands painted in carnival colors like John Deere green, Case red, Kuhn orange, Patz blue, Massey red and white, New Holland yellow and black, and Yanmar red.
Down each row will come big men with fingers as thick as German sausages, northern European accents, close-cropped hair, bib overalls and curiosity for the new. Inside of every farmer is the partial brain of a wide-eyed 2-year-old.
Wives, mostly patient, sometimes engaging, always dressed comfortably, wait one booth up while their husbands satisfy their curiosity or bargain for the best deal. Girlfriends in tight-fitting clothes hold their boyfriends’ hands securely and listen with bored eyes but supportive tongues.
Small groups of Mennonites, Hutterites or Amish thread their way through the show with curious eyes and soft-spoken tongues. The women are blessed with round, milk-white faces and long hair that either runs down their backs or is wrapped in a bun and captured beneath a white cotton bonnet. They wear hand-sewn, full-length dresses in calico prints with tennis shoes and have young children holding tightly to their dresses or sleeping upon their breasts. The men with leprechaun beards and chiseled cheeks wear wide brimmed or Bat Masterson black hats, hand-sewn blue shirts and jeans that are held with suspenders.
A bright yellow sun, whose rays sprout sleek sunglasses over the eyes of those that walk by, moves on turtles’ feet across the sky and bakes my head till salty sweat beads up and drips from my brow like water condensing on a glass of ice-cold lemonade.
Some days, sparse clouds that are as delicate as a spider’s web try to hide in a soft blue, carpeted sky that holds a blazing sun and little breeze. Other days, clouds fill the sky like columns of infantrymen marching on roads paved by wind currents.
If the day has a cloud burst, people scamper for shelter like seeds falling out of a broken bag and spreading across the floor. When the rain stops, kids find puddles and belly laugh as they tromp through the water while their parents move quickly from display to display, trying to soak it all in before they get soaked clear through.
If the rain is long and steady, vendors shelter themselves in their tarps and tents and busy themselves with conversations on phones or with those who have sought shelter in their dry oasis.
Attendees wear T-shirts proclaiming farm life, politics and the wild life with words like: I love to play in the dirt, cowgirl pink, farms – how the world eats, it’s a farm thing, will trade sister for tractor, nothing runs like a Deere, I’d rather be dead than red, guns guns guns – it’s my right, Sturgis ND Harley Davidson, conserve water – drink beer, and Alaska.
Morning’s children are little girls in sundresses and little boys in John Deere T-shirts and blue jeans. They dart from booth to booth in search of candy, back scratchers, plastic bags with logos, pens, pop can covers or colorful brochures that fill their dreams of farming.
Afternoon’s children are hard to smile, shuffle their feet, wonder aloud when they are going home, complain or cry, and stick to the path with their eyes glazed over.
Lutheran hot dogs, FFA ice cream, pork chop on a stick, buffalo burger, Gobbler Concessions, turkey on a croissant, BBQ popcorn, maple lemonade, ribeye on a Kaiser. Oh – and will that be with a water, Gatorade, coffee or a Coke?
A predictor of my success is my ability to stop the crunching sound of tennis shoes, cowboy boots and sandals from traipsing on the stone path past my booth, engage the wearer and convince them to hear my sales presentation.
What’s list? Any show specials? A price just for you – freight included. How long will it last? What’s it cost? Anybody around here got one? Can you do me any better? What makes yours so special? You’re proud of that, aren’t you? OK, let’s do it!
Show’s over – thank you for coming. Pack it up; drive a few hundred miles; and start all over again. FG
Rich Ilg is with Forklift Tires Inc.
PHOTO
Photo by FG staff.
