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Brad Nelson

In Tales of a Hay Hauler, Brad Nelson shares his unique perspective of the forage industry through his hay-hauling experiences, skillfully woven through storytelling and humor.

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A wooden frame, with most of a roof still intact. No window glass remains, if ever there were glass windows. Even the doorway stands – minus any form of a door.

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The other day, I was happily engaged at keeping the vehicle I was driving where it should be on the road. I was on a two-lane road in Nevada, and I was driving a Freightliner tractor with the good old 550-horse Cat engine. I was pulling triple hay trailers and the usual high, gusty winds west of Tonopah were making it an interesting drive.

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I just explained to Feather, our Lab/cow-dog cross, that if marshmallow “Peeps” are not the traditional Easter colors of yellow or pink, then you don’t have to wait until Easter to eat them.

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Some time back as our next meal was in the planning stages, my wife said she had in mind to make sad pie. I had not heard that terminology for some time, and it brought back memories.

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I don’t think there is a city block in Tonopah, Nevada, that is level. Tonopah is rich in silver mining history – complete with historic old hotels and at least a couple of parks full of antique mining equipment. The town sits a-straddle a high ridge with large flat areas of land on both the east and west sides.

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They were mostly black, three in number. They were traveling together, the two in the rear following the first. I was traveling east on Highway 375 in southern Nevada when I noticed the trio moving in behind me.

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