My wife’s cousin and his family came down for a short visit this past weekend. They live in St. Louis and the only connection with agriculture that any of them have ever had in their entire lives – is me.
Randy recently retired from a 30 year career in management with one of the big automakers. He has two college degrees, and has always been somewhat of a “techie” ever since widespread use of the computer began. No doubt, he has forgotten more about computer technology than I will ever know, but over the course of the weekend, I got a little tired of hearing detailed specifications about every high-tech gadget that’s been invented in the last 20 years.
“Do you have GPS systems on all your machinery, yet?” He asked upon arrival.
“Nope, not on all my machinery,” I answered. The truth is, I don’t have it on any of my equipment, but I figured that answer would save another 20-minute tutorial. It didn’t, because he went on and on about how he had just entered in my address and his GPS had verbally told him every turn to make between St. Louis and here.
“I use a map,” I stated.
“Oh, but I’ve been reading about precision farming and how some of the ‘big boys’ don’t even have to steer their tractors in the field anymore. They just program in the coordinates of the field and let the computer take over to guide the vehicle around the field doing planting, cultivation and harvesting. They can actually sit in the cab and read the paper while the GPS does everything. You really should try it, and they’re not expensive at all. It’s the wave of the future.”
“Hmmm,” I answered.
The next morning at 7 a.m., I politely asked Randy if he would like to go on the morning rounds with me as I fed hay and checked all the cows that are calving now. “Sure,” he answered, “Are you leaving right after breakfast?”
“No, right now. Fill your coffee cup and let’s go!” Reluctantly he agreed.
It was 15 degrees outside that morning and I wanted to get an early start so I could get into the bale yards and through the pastures before the sun and rising temperatures turned the land into the daily quagmire of mud that I’ve been battling all winter long.
It took us about 10 minutes to get to the first farm and I had endured another informative session on computer applications to agriculture that he had read about in one of his science periodicals. Arriving at the first gate, he offered to open it for me – but I had an idea.
“No, I’ll get it,” I said as I slid out of the pickup seat. After I opened the gate, I told Randy to stay in the passenger’s seat and to put the truck in gear and I’d meet him at the bale yard. “You don’t have to touch the steering wheel or anything. Just reach over and put your foot on the brake when I tell you.” Randy looked puzzled, but eventually did as I instructed.
I walked briskly the hundred yards to where the bales were stored and the truck idled along right behind me with Randy looking more intrigued with every step. I turned a 90 degree corner toward the bale yard and the truck took exactly the same course. At the next gate, I hollered for Randy to stop the truck and he quickly reached over with his foot and stepped on the brake. “You’ve been playing with me haven’t you, Jerry? You DO have GPS on this truck, don’t you?”
I guess you could say that,” I answered. “Except my GPS stands for ‘grooved precise steering’.” Randy was completely baffled. “Do you see those ruts in the frozen ground behind us?”
He looked back and nodded, yes.
“This truck couldn’t get out of those ruts on a bet. I’ve been locked into them for the past two months. That’s my GPS.”
I think he was impressed.
Jerry Crownover farms in Lawrence County. He is a former professor of Agriculture Education at Missouri State University, and is an author and professional speaker. To contact Jerry, go to www.ozarksfn.com and click on ‘Contact Us.’
