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"Chooga, chooga, chooga!" Around the hedgerow came the farmer astride a
rusty old Ford Ferguson tractor, diesel powered I might add (sweetheart, we
estate appraisors view all things with Argus' eyes).
With a grating, screeching noise the tractor halted. Down climbed a manly looking guy. A manly looking bulge showed in the crotch of his jeans too I might add. That guy, the farmer, said, "What the Hell is going on here lady?"
Was I afraid? You bet! Did I despair? Only for a moment dear. "Audaces fortuna
iuvat." Fortune does favor the bold. I intuitively felt I could manipulate this man.
You know, give him a thrill for his money. I did but that's another story for
another time. So long for now, Jacquel
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