Dust swirled behind my father’s pickup as he sped through the fields on his Mississippi Delta farm, delivering lunches to tractor drivers, one of whom was Jaybird, my boyhood best friend and mentor. The old black man and I had been riding together on his tractor since daylight.
I loved everything about that John Deere 830 — its bright green color, its long, broad nose, the large cleated tires, the engine’s powerful roar, the smell of diesel exhaust blowing in my face, and especially the big lever that engaged the clutch.