Right from his childhood, he was fascinated with tractors. His bedroom walls were covered with pictures of tractors, and all he ever talked about was tractors. This was strange, because he lived in the centre of town and never saw one live and upclose until he was twenty, when he went up country and came across a Field Day exhibition, where there were tractors and farm machinery as far as the eye could see.

He went up to the first stand and so impressed the sales rep with the depth of his questions and comments that he was given the keys and told to try it out. All his dreams were coming true as he sat in the cabin and confidently moved forward, Sadly, he was overcome with an adrenalin rush and he shot forward into another exhibit, which pitched farm machinery in all directions and flipped him upside down – inflicting serious injuries to his arms and legs.

After several months in rehab, he was finally discharged from hospital. When he got home he went into his bedroom and ripped down all his pictures, furiously muttering to himself: “I’ve wasted my whole life on these things! I’ve had it with tractors!”

That night he shuffled off to a hotel and noticed a very attractive young lady sitting alone at the bar. As he went over to her he saw the tears running down her cheeks and immediately his acquaintance with personal pain added a deep sense of compassion to his interest. He asked her why she was crying and if he could help in some way. “It’s the tobacco smoke,” she replied, “it’s so thick I can hardly see.”

“Leave it to me!” he said, turning away from her and sucking in a massive deep breath – which he held until he had stepped outside into the back alley – where he exhaled with tremendous force.

He went back inside, where the air was clear and fresh.

She gazed at him with wonder: “You’re amazing! How did you do that?”

“It was easy,” he explained, “I’m

(Wait for it)

an ex-tractor fan!”