Machinery Puns

Man who has been going to the same bar for years tells his drinking buddies that he has decided to travel the world to view every farm tractor ever made. They all know his love for farm machinery and are quite relieved to be getting rid of him as he bores them half to death with his knowledge of tractors. 5 years later the man goes back to the bar after traveling the world seeing every tractor he could find. The barman looks at him and enquires as to why he looks so glum after achieving his life ambition, He explains that seeing every tractor has taken the shine off his hobby and he doesn't want or need to see anymore tractors. Just then there's a loud bang and the bar starts filling with smoke. Everyone is panicking except our man back from his travels who tells everyone to not panic and stand back, he then inhales all the smoke walks outside and blows all the smoke away. His buddies are amazed and ask how he managed to do this amazing feat, He explains. Simple I'm An Ex tractor fan.

A mallfunction

But if Botswana compete with me, that's fine.

he's fully recovered now.

A schwing and Amish!

Malfunctioning machinery.

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

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 Trevor’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.

Trevors’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 Trevor’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 wasn’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.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

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.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

However, there was an issue with getting the preserves into the packaging phase as the manufacturing plant was downstairs and the bottling machinery was upstairs.

After carefully reviewing the process, the group settled on a solution.

They decided to Pump Up The Jam.

got stuck in the machinery in a terrible accident . . . . He is now resting in pieces

A 22 year-old man was obsessed with tractors, so much so that he had no social life outside of his fascination with farm machinery. His mother eventually intervened, forcing him to throw away all of his tractor merchandise and ordered him to find himself a girlfriend.

The man went to a bar that night in search of a partner and encountered a beautiful blonde. After exchanging pleasantries, the two moved outside in order to have a proper conversation away from the music. As they ventured into the smoking area, the woman complained that she hated the cigarette fumes which had engulfed them. Without flinching, the man took a huge, deep breath and inhaled all of the second-hand smoke in the vicinity.

Staring on in amazement, the woman asks how he could possibly have removed the smoke from the room.

The man turns back to her and replies: "I'm an ex tractor fan"

Of course it does, it's fresh ground.

Edit: This, of course, is an Amazon Echo dad joke. It's a rock solid piece of machinery.

I just got a job at a power tool and machinery supply store, on my first day (Thursday) I was hanging out around the cash sorting exacto-knives and one of my coworkers is assisting a customer with the purchase of a drill. They're comparing two drills online, one is $149.99 and the other is $159.99.

Customer: So what is the difference between the two drills?

Me: About ten dollars.

heh. hehehehehe.

Me: I'll have an a-mond danish. Wife: You mean almond? (doesn't suspect a thing) Me: Do you know how they harvest a-monds? Wife: No. (still clueless) Me: They use a big piece of machinery to grab the tree and shake the L out of it. (Couldn't see any eye rolling because I was too busy doing a Jordan fadeaway in the very busy bakery)

Last night my dad, brother-in-law, and myself were discussing shop stuff, I was raised on a farm but never really got into the nuts and bolts of farming, machinery, etc. I was trying to name something common in engineering parlance and couldn't quite come up with it. My brother-in-law was also raised on a farm and is big into that sort of stuff, and this line of dialogue ensued:

Dad: "You need to go to engineering school"

Me: "What engineering school did you go to?"

Dad: "H.K."

Me: "What school is that?"

Dad: "Hard Knocks"

Me: rolls eyes