There is nothing like being a kid riding a bike down a hill without a care in the world…
One of the farms my family lived on had two houses – one for the boss and one for the hired hand (that would be us!). Both homes sat on the top of a hill. Well, hill might be an exaggeration, but 8-year-old me thought it was. In fact, it was really more of two gentle inclines that the driveway followed. Between them there was an artesian spring ran through the culvert year round. It wasn’t much, but it was enough of a hill for me and my brothers to ride up and down for hours when we first moved there.
That early summer day, my mom was outside staining closet doors on sawhorses, and we were coasting up and down the driveway. I will admit that my biking skills have never been that great. While I was the oldest, my brothers were more daring and confident on two wheels than I was. They were riding with no hands. I was lucky to take one hand off the handlebars. Still, I would lift my feet off the pedals and we were having fun!
One of my brothers, biked up close and said, “your back tire is flat.” I stopped, put my feet on the ground and looked back. Looked normal to me. I continued on. Again, my brothers told me, “Really! Your back tire’s flat!” I stopped and got off the seat again to look. Nope. Everything looked fine. I pushed off a little faster this time annoyed by it. By this point, both brothers were laughing as they said again – “Peg, your tire IS flat!” I was having none of it.
In a loud voice, I turned to look and call back, all at the same time – “It is NOT!!!” —- which coincided with me turning the handlebars, turning me right into the drink! My brothers howled in laughter as I sat disheveled in the icy water and yelled, “It’s not funny!” To which they howled even louder. And thus, one of many reasons I prefer to walk rather than bike to get around…
My Mom came and showed me how the tire was flat, or at least low. Whenever I got off the seat, the reduced weight allowed for it to appear fully inflated even if it wasn’t. Altogether, a tough lesson, or at least one that was hard for my ego.
Siblings are an interesting thing. At that time of life, I didn’t trust my brothers at all, even if they were trying to be kind. Competition and constant togetherness can cause us to drive each other crazy. As adults though, I trust them deeply. They understand me and they care about me. They want the best for me. It’s a beautiful thing. They will fix my collar in church and I will tease them about the bad hairstyle they chose. (Your wife is right! – you are too old for the bowl cut!)
What drives trust in the farming industry? Do we only trust those who agree with us all the time? What about those who disagree with us? Do we trust those who always compliment us and say that we are the best? Do we hear those who push against us and say that we have it wrong? Do we accept challenges to our opinions and beliefs about how we do what we do?
One of agriculture’s greatest frustrations is that people rarely ask us, the experts, why we do the things we do and instead make assumptions about how farming should be done. I get it. I have been there, trying to explain the whys of milking cows and growing crops. But every once in a while, I have to check myself – am I ignoring the questions outright because I think I am the expert? Am I still listening to their observations and challenging my own biases and opinions?
My brothers were right. My tire was flat. And they cared enough to tell me. I just assumed they were being annoying as little brothers can be. (I never did tell them that, though! :))
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