I read Dale Geise’s article about the 2-horse cultivator. It reminded me of days of yore. I was born and raised on a farm in Waterloo, N.Y. One day, Dad sent me down to cultivate corn with Sam and Molly hitched to a 2-horse cultivator. It was a hot day in July and the corn was about a foot high. The field was about 300 yards long. On the third round, the horses bolted because of the green horseflies. Halfway down the field they were on a full gallop, throwing rooster tails of corn, weeds and dirt. I couldn’t hold them back; they stopped by running into a hedgerow. I got off and put the lines on the hames, then led them up to the barn. I was still shaking scared for a 14-year-old kid. But Dad said to take the harness off and put them in the pasture.
Joseph T. Jones, Carson City, Nev.
Letters: Memories of a runaway still clear
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