Tractors, tractors, tractors

“Tractors, tractors, tractors!” .....As Linda’s mother said over-and-over-and-over the whole time she was here following my stroke.
There are a few farms nearby, so every once in a while a tractor passes out front on its way to a rented field.
Of course tractors, nowadays, are much bigger than they used to be — big enough to till an entire field in one swipe. And they have 89 bazilyun-horsepower turbocharged diesel engines, powerful enough to move an aircraft-carrier.
The tiny nearby village of Ionia holds an annual fall-festival every year, and part of it is their hallowed tractor-parade.
It’s mostly antique-tractors, but farmers from miles around also bring their current equipment; most of which is rusty and battle-worn.
There were also lawn-tractors; for crying out loud. I could have entered the Greenie!
We went to see the tractor-parade — and took our cowering dogs, who were frightened by all the noisy commotion.
Tractors were staged in the tiny grass parking-area of a rural church, and it was awesome to be surrounded by “BDAH, bDAH, bDAH, bDAH.”
The parade began. —61 (or so) tractors (and lawn-mowers, for crying out loud) parading single-file down the main drag.
The parade looped around, out of sight, and returned on a cross-street.“BDAH, bDAH, bDAH, bDAH.” Allis-Chalmers and Ford and Oliver and McCormick. Quite a few Johnny-Poppers too.