This story is about a man called Trevor, and his obsession with tractors.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevorโ€™s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevorsโ€™s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevorโ€™s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasnโ€™t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

โ€œWellโ€ said Jeff, โ€œAs Iโ€™m sure you know the convention comes to town laterโ€.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

โ€œYes of courseโ€ replied Trevor

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/ShredderSte
๐Ÿ“…︎ Aug 07 2020
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Dad and daughter come into the restaurant I work at. He was crackin me up the whole time.

They are looking through the menu and the dad points to the falafel appetizer.

Dad: How do you pronounce that one?

Me: Falafel?

Dad: No actually I feel great! Just a little bit hungry..

Daughter: (Face palm)

.

EDIT: falafel sort of sounds like feel awful.

.

and again..

.

Dad orders his daughter a slice of cake for dessert.

Me: (to daughter) Here's your dessert. and (to the Dad) I brought you a fork in case you wanted some too.

Dad: Thanks! I love fork! (begins to pretend to eat fork)

Daughter: (absolutely mortified face of embarrassment.)

๐Ÿ‘︎ 3k
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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/Riggy60
๐Ÿ“…︎ Aug 25 2013
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The Tale of Hobbin & Noggin

One day a farmer's mare birthed two foals. One was named Hobbin, and the other Noggin. The two horses grew up and loved to race each other. One day the farmer noticed the two racing each other around the pasture and thought to himself, "Wow! These horses are quick!" So the next day he entered them into a local derby. As the race was about to start, the horses were rearing and snorting to get let out of the gate. As soon as the gates swung open, both horses immediately bolted to the front of the race as the announcer was going wild, "It's Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, and Hobbin wins by a nose!" Excited by the win, the farmer then enters them into the Kentucky Derby. Once again, as soon as the gates open, both horses fly to the front of the race and it's Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin and again, Hobbin wins by a nose. This continues in every race until Hobbin has won the Triple Crown. By this point the farmer is beginning to realize just how fast these horses are, so he decides to enter them into a NASCAR race and again, it's Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin and again, Hobbin wins by a nose. This pattern continues until Hobbin wins the Sprint Cup. Still believing that he can push these horses further, he enters them both into an F1 Grand Prix. Unbelievably, against some of most well-engineered machines on Earth, as soon as the race started it was Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin and again, Hobbin wins by a nose. Hobbin won so often that he was named the World Drivers' Champion. After that the farmer decided that the horses had done it, they'd won the most prestigious races in the world; they had earned their retirement. Five years later, as the two horses were grazing in their pasture, Noggin walked up to Hobbin and said, "Hey, you know, you won all of those races we were in. Do you think that we could race around the pasture, and you could just let me win one race?" "Okay, I'll do that for you" Hobbin replied. So, just like the olden days, the two horses were off, and ever the same, it was Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, Hobbin-Noggin, Noggin-Hobbin, and again, Hobbin beats Noggin by a nose. The old farm dog, watching from the farmhouse's front porch, walks over and asks Hobbin, "Hey, why'd you do that? You said you'd let him win, the race was just for fun; it meant nothing." To which Hobbin responded, "WOW. Would you look at that? A t

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/Umkazto
๐Ÿ“…︎ Sep 13 2013
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My dad got me with this one, easily the crown of his week.

So I love orange juice, but I hate how it tastes after having brushed my teeth. So I asked my dad, "Do you know how I can drink orange juice after brushing my teeth?" And since he knows a few good home remedies like that, he says sure, and to follow him to the bathroom.

He has me brush, and as I'm doing that, he explains how the toothpaste does what it does, the chemicals involved, so forth. He then takes me to the kitchen and pours me a glass of orange juice, beginning to explain why the two react and such, and says, "here, see for yourself. " So I take a drink, and of course, its disgusting, and I spit it out.

"And THAT is how you drink orange juice after brushing your teeth."

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/Pubbawubba
๐Ÿ“…︎ Feb 21 2014
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