He Beat Me

 

   Eric Amundson was here recently to do some sheetrock repair and painting for us. I worked for Eric’s father Curtis several years ago. Curtis and his brother Roger farmed three thousand acres and I was their hired man.

   Eric had a younger brother Michael who loved all things electrical. He had taught himself to walk by pushing a vacuum cleaner around the house. One of his treasures as he grew older was a discarded tractor voltage regulator. The voltage regulator was a small steel box, weighing about half a pound. It had a short wire hanging out of one end and Michael carried it everywhere he went.

   One day Curtis and I were out putting up a new barbed wire  fence for cattle. Curtis had an augur device on the back of a tractor to drill a hole in the ground and my job was to walk behind and put the eight foot wooden post into the four foot hole. As I tamped in the soil around the post, Curtis drove ahead 30 feet and drilled the next hole.

   Eric was about ten at the time and had just been allowed to drive the farm’s all terrain vehicle. This was motorcycle like vehicle with a fat tire in front and two fat tires in the back. Michael was around six. He sat behind Eric and had his voltage regulator with him.

   The boys were following along just for fun. Eric and Michael would sit near me on the idling ATV and as soon as I finished with my post, they would surge ahead to the next post. After awhile Michael started saying, “Joe, we beat you.” Michael had a strong Roseau County brogue which sounded like something a stage Scandinavian comic would use, so it came out, “Joooooe, we bee-yut yew.”

   It was a warm day and I was ready for lunch but this taunting didn’t bother me. I’m a mature adult. Then one time Eric stalled the ATV and I was able to get to the next post before the boys. Michael berated Eric for killing the engine. When I finished the post and started for the next one, Eric stalled again. 

   As I strolled by the ATV I said, “Michael, I bee-yut yew.” I don’t know if you’ve ever been hit in the back by a half pound voltage regulator, but let me tell you, it hurts.  I looked at Michael. He was not repentant. I picked up the regulator and was about to pitch it into the hayfield when I realized one of Curtis’s cows might swallow it and die. I handed it back to Michael and gave him a lecture on farm safety. He never threw a regulator at me again and eventually went on to have a successful career in IT.

Never turn your back on a voltage regulator.