When I was young I told my dad, “When I grow up I want to be a musician.” My dad looked at me sternly and said, “You know, son, you can’t do both.”
Looking at the huge tree in our front yard, my dad advised me, “Don’t trust that tree. It’s shady.”
We were in the library together and my dad checked out a huge book on accounting. I asked why he was bothering to get that book. “I need to take this book to my doctor. It has a bloated appendix.”
My dad once told me, “I do yoga daily with your mother.” Then he added, “By ‘do yoga’ I mean I put my foot in my mouth.”
My dad was always telling me to exercise. He said I need to walk two miles a day. After a month of doing that, I called him, “Okay, now I’m in Seattle. What do I do now?”
My dad loved Clint Eastwood. I heard that Clint just opened a preschool: “Go Ahead Make My Day Care.”
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡...because then you will be a mile ahead of them. And have their shoes.
My teacher asked us if we knew about bodyless disease, where you're born with only a head and no body.
He said he knew a kid who had it and that every morning his mom would get him up and put him on the window sill to watch the kids playing outside. Then at the end of the day she would always carry him back into bed and he would wish that he had a body every night. One day he woke up and he had a body! He was so excited that he ran out of the house to play with the kids and immediately got hit by a car and killed.
My teacher then said "The moral of the story is: quit while you're ahead"
Groans were heard from miles away.
