Marketing Inertia

Jun 16, 2008 3:30 PM

I reached a critical juncture. It was at the stop sign in Spillville. I could take a left and climb the fairly steep hill and get back to the farm relatively unnoticed. I could take a right and have virtually dead-level terrain for the whole trip . . . right through the middle of town . . . where they have a lovely gazebo you get to drive around before you go past the bar, the bank, the church, the school and the Kolache Lady's house, in ascending order of importance in my world.

Climbing hills with bales and a lack of power didn’t seem so appealing to me right then. I mean, really, how bad could a trip through downtown Spillville, over the noon hour, possibly be? There’s nothing I like more than a crowd when I’m having a hay episode.

As I switched to promenade mode and made my way around the gazebo, I saw the only thing that could make this day perfect for me. There was some kind of event being held at the either the Catholic school or the Catholic church. It was wall-to-wall cars for several blocks, many drivers of which were climbing out of their cars, thereby narrowing up the roadway considerably . . . as I drove by . . . laughing it up to Bob & Tom on my iPod . . . with my giant bale obstructing my view . . . compounded by the ever-increasing chaff cloud from not being able to stop and reinvigorate The Little Engine That Barely Could.

Fortunately, there was one eyewitness missing as I made my way through town. I fully expected The Kolache Lady to be perched on her front steps, wagging her finger at me as I went by. She'd probably make sure all my mixed dozens in the future ran heavy to prune and light on the apricot, just to teach me a lesson.

I got back to the pickup, got my bale loaded and parked my Fisher Price tractor for a much-needed rest. I pulled up to the T-intersection to head west and go home through the boonies. My phone rang right as I pulled up to the intersection. It was Seed Guy. Guy No. 1 had called him to get some more seed. If I could get there right away, he’d get me loaded and we could keep planting without missing a beat. Yeah, well, that sounded good, except for one thing. I had just driven through Spillville on a tractor everyone in town recognized but as a driver hopefully no one recognized. The only way to get to Seed Guy’s place was to drive right back through town . . . with my single, less-than-kosher bale prominently on display on my trailer.

No, really, I’m pretty sure I’da been totally anonymous if I didn’t have to go through town again. I mean, what are the odds someone would recognize me? If they had, that kind of information pretty much stays to itself at gatherings in small towns.

Billy called me as soon as I got into Seed Guy’s yard. I was amazed HE didn't tell ME exactly how everything had gone for me. He was probably checking to see if my version lined up with the version he'd already heard by then.

Guy No. 2