She Wanted to Drive My Tractor

The teen-age girls, somewhere around twenty of them, were gathered together outside the office and chattering away even though it was just six in the morning. A similar group of teen-age guys were gathered together about twenty feet away. The guys kept looking at the girls, and once in a while, there'd be a loud burst of laughing. I figured they were talking about the girls and probably bragging about what they'd do if they got assigned to walk the cornfield with one. That's what I'd done when I was their age and doing the same job.

I knew from that experience that wasn't going to happen. The guys were the clean-up crew and were doomed to walk through fields of tall corn in the morning, and then continue walking through the same fields in the afternoon. The seed corn company knew very well what would happen if they mixed boys and girls in the cornfield, so they made sure that never happened.

There was another reason girls didn't walk through the fields. It that day and age, girls were considered to be somewhat delicate and fragile, and wouldn't have stood up to the conditions of walking the corn.

The difference between morning and afternoon was night and day, but both were still miserable. In the morning, the corn would have captured the dew from the night before in the little pockets between each leaf and the stalk. Brushing against a corn stalk would dump some of that water on the guy, and within half an hour, he'd look like he'd taken a shower with his clothes on.

By late morning, the bright Illinois sun would have dried the corn out, so there weren't any showers anymore. What there was, was no flow of air because of the corn, heat that would suck all the sweat out of you, and super-high humidity caused by the evaporation of the water from the plants and ground beneath. The guys would still be wet, but it would be with sweat, not dew.

The girls had it a lot easier because they were girls. The girls made the first pass through each field, but they rode on platforms attached to a sort of tractor on stilts high enough to clear the corn plants. There were two platforms on each side of the tractor, and those platforms were spaced so each girl was between two rows of corn. One girl pulled the tassels on the inside row, the other pulled those on the outside row.

That's how we did it, back then, how we created hybrid seed corn that would stand the heat and dry part of the Illinois summers, had a time to maturity that matched the growing season, and most importantly, increased the yield from each acre.

The process was pretty simple compared to the gene-splicing you read about being used to make the so-called "GMO" vegetables and crops today. The grower planted four rows of corn that would become the "female" corn, and beside that and spaced a little further apart, two rows of the corn variety that would become the "male" corn.

Corn can and does fertilize itself because each plant has both male and female flowers. The female flowers grow from the intersection of a leaf with the stalk, but they don't look like flowers. Each one is a tightly wrapped set of corn husks that has "silks", fine hair-like structures that form at the tip of each flower. The male part is a "tassel", a stalk that grows from the very top of the plant. The tassel has grains of pollen attached to a small spray of thin branches that grow from the main tassel stock.

If everything goes as Nature planned, that pollen falls or is blown to nearby corn plants by the wind, is caught by the leaves, and flows down the leaf to the silks of the female flower. A grain of pollen meets a silk, and each time that happens, a single kernel of corn will grow on the cob that develops as the bud matures.

In this way, a corn plant clones itself in the kernels that form on the cob. If those kernels are planted the next year, the corn they produce will be identical to the corn that produced them. My grandpa knew this and each year, selected the longest, fattest ears from his crop and used them for seed the next year.

What I was helping the grower do was interfere with that cycle. We did that by pulling the tassels from the female corn plants before the pollen ripened so they'd be fertilized by the rows of male plants instead. Since those male plants weren't the same variety, the kernels that grew on the cobs of the female plants would be a hybrid of the two, just like a mule is a hybrid between a horse and a donkey.

The process worked really well. One could plant male plants that grew really tall and produced several partially filled ears on each stalk, and use that pollen to fertilize female plants that were short with only a couple ears per stalk, but with ears that were long, of excellent quality and were always completely filled with kernels. The result would be a hybrid with more ears per stalk than the female plant and would make a higher yield per acre of ears with higher quality than the male plant.

I was the driver of the detasseling machine. I also farmed three hundred and twenty acres, but by the time the corn tasseled, I didn't have much to do except wait until my soybeans were ready to cut. Driving a detasseling machine was a way to earn some cash, and cash is something farmers back then didn't get until they sold their crops in the fall. It was also fun because of the girls.

I was twenty-four at the time and working my dad's farm because he was sixty-six and had retired. The tax laws wouldn't let him just give me the farm. I had to buy it and all the equipment. I was going to do that just a soon as I'd socked some money away in the bank. Weather can make farming risky, and I didn't want to lose everything because of a year that was too wet or too dry.

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That morning, I checked the oil in the detasseling machine, then climbed the ladder to the seat and fired it up. After a short trip to the gas tank and a fill-up, I drove it down the white rock lane to where the girls were gathered. Behind me were four other machines driven by farmers like me.

The girls all walked over to the machine they'd been on the day before and climbed up onto the platforms. Mine did as well, except I was missing Trudy, an eighteen year old little blonde who was pretty plain and always stood on the platform closest to my right side. She had a great smile but not much figure. I asked Marsha, a brunette who had a lot of figure in all the right places, what had happened to Trudy. Marsha grinned.

"Her boyfriend got her in a family way so they got married on Sunday. She won't be back. They're living with her mom until Ricky finds a job."

I was thinking about Trudy and wondering how she'd managed to find a boyfriend, much less find one who wanted to screw her, when another girl climbed onto the platform Trudy had used.

I say girl, but she was no teenager. She was young for sure, but her face was more pretty than cute, and instead of the smaller, perky breasts most of the girls had, her breasts were full and pushed out her T-shirt a lot further.

That T-shirt was going to be a problem -- not for me, but for her. Her shorts were going to be a problem too. She had nice legs, but after a day on the detasseling machine, she was going to have little cuts all over them.

There was a dress code of sorts on detasseling machines, and it wasn't to cover what the driver would love to see. It was to protect the girls. Most girls came out the first time expecting to get a great tan while they earned some money. Since the platforms put their head and shoulders higher than the corn, they would get all the sun they wanted...for about the first three hours. After that, any bare skin started to turn pink and by quitting time, it'd be red. The next day, they'd be hurting a lot from the sunburn they got.

That wasn't the worst though. Corn leaves have sharp edges, and if they brush against you just right, they'll leave a little cut. It's not a bad cut and most don't even bleed much, but they do hurt and you'd get sliced to ribbons if you rode between corn rows like the girls did on the machine. The platforms had rails to keep the girls from falling off, but weren't solid, so the corn leaves stuck through and brushed against their legs.

The seed corn company always told the girls to wear long pants and a worn-out white, long sleeved shirt. The pants would keep their legs from getting cut and the white shirt would let through enough sun to eventually give them a tan, but not enough to burn them. I figured my new girl had been hired just that morning so she wouldn't have known. That had happened before, so I'd started keeping one of my old white shirts and a pair of worn out jeans in my truck so a girl didn't have to go home burnt to a crisp and cut up after the first day.

As it turned out, I was right. She smiled when I asked her name.

"Gwendolyn Macey, but I go by Gwen."

"Well, Gwen, you're not dressed for this kind of work, but I can fix that."

I climbed down from the driver's platform. When I came back from my truck, I handed her the shirt and pants.

"This shirt'll keep you from getting sunburnt, and the pants will keep your legs from getting cut by the corn."

Gwen looked at me.

"These are a man's clothes."

"Yep, they're mine, and you really do need them. See how the other girls are dressed?"

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She was kind of cute in my old white shirt and faded jeans, sort of like a little girl when she dresses up in Mommy's clothes. My jeans were too long by about six inches, so Gwen had them rolled up. My shirt hit her about mid thigh and it looked like she was wearing a white tent. I figured that was a good thing. Gwen's hips looked wider than mine, so my jeans probably fit pretty tight. I'd be spared the distraction of looking at a nice female ass all day long.

Gwen looked up at me once she was up on her platform.

"OK, now what do I do?"

I handed Gwen a pair of the brown cotton gloves the company provided.

"Put these on. They'll keep your hands from getting cut and keep them reasonably clean. I'll show you what to do as soon as I pull into the field."

About a foot into the first set of corn rows, I stopped the machine.

"OK, Gwen, see that thing sticking up out of the top of the corn plant? That's a tassel, and you have to pull it out and toss it on the ground."

Gwen reached over the top rail, grabbed the tassel and pulled. It made a little pop when it came out. Gwen looked at it, and then dropped in on the ground. She looked up and grinned.

"That's it?"

"Yep, that's it. There'll be one about every eight inches or so all the way through the field. Try to get all of them, but if you miss a couple, don't worry too much. We'll make a second pass through the field in a couple of days. If there are any left after that, the guys doing cleanup will get them."

I watched Gwen for a while, and she seemed to be doing OK. Some tassels pull harder than others, and when she got a tough one, she frown and pull hard until it came out. I did see her miss a tassel or two, but most girls did even after they'd done the job for a week. The detasseling machine only had a thirty horse engine and was geared way down to pull the weight, so it wouldn't run very fast, but in pulling a tough tassel, it was easy to let the next one slip by.

It took about an hour to make it the half-mile through the field and back, and after each complete round, I'd stop for about ten minutes. I carried a water jug of ice water on the machine and most girls brought a snack or two for those times. They also had to "drain the tank" once in a while, and the pause gave them time to do that.

Most were embarrassed the first couple of times. Porta-potties didn't exist back then. Each girl would just walk into the corn rows a few feet, pull down her jeans and panties, and squat. After a couple of times, they didn't think anything about it. It was just part of the job. Gwen didn't take that long. When I stopped that first time, she looked up at me and asked why we were stopping.

I just said I had ice water if she wanted a drink and that usually at least some of the girls had some business to take care of.

Gwen grinned.

"I suppose the ladies room is out there in the corn field?"

"Yep, that's about the size of it."

She grinned again.

"I've done that before when I was a kid. I'll be back in a jiffy."

It was noon when I drove the detasseling machine back to the main building. We all had to get our lunches from our cars and I needed fuel and more ice water too. I topped off both and drove the machine over in the shade of the trees in front of the office, then got my lunch from my truck. I'd just sat down under a big oak a little way from the rest when Gwen walked up.

"Mind if I eat here. Those girls are a little too giggly for me."

I said I didn't, so Gwen sat down and opened the paper sack she carried. I was taking a bite out of my bologna sandwich when she pulled out something wrapped in aluminum foil. As she peeled back the foil, the aroma of fried chicken made my mouth water. It was worse when she bit into the piece of chicken breast. I heard the crunch as she bit through the crispy coating.

While we ate, Gwen didn't say much. She just sat there, ate her chicken, and smiled if she saw me looking at her.

I liked knowing my girls, but not because I was looking to ask one out. Most were seventeen, but a couple had just turned sixteen. All of them were way too young for me. Gwen was right that they were too giggly. They also talked all the time. No, I just wanted to know who was riding my rig. I wanted to know about Gwen for the same reason, so I asked why she was detasseling corn instead of working a full time job. Back then, at least in corn country, women either stayed home or worked a full time job.

"I'm divorcing my husband, and I don't know where I'm going to end up once all this is over. I'm living with my aunt and uncle right now, but I'll probably move back to Rockford once the divorce is settled. I'll find a job there."

"You're from Rockford?"

"No, I grew up on a farm about three miles from Hammond."

"I know where Hammond is. So you're a farm girl. How'd you get to Rockford?"

Gwen frowned.

"Yes, I was a farm girl and I hated every second of it. The girls who lived in town got to see each other every day and they could meet boys at the diner. The only way I could get to town was to have Mama or Daddy drive me."

Gwen laughed then.

"Hammond isn't much of a town, but it was better than the farm when I was growing up.

"Anyway, when I turned eighteen, I got a job as a waitress at that same diner. This guy came to the diner one day for lunch. He said he was in town to sell stuff to the hardware store and that he'd be in town every couple of weeks for a while.

"After he finished his lunch, Jerry asked me if I'd like to go to Decatur for dinner that night. Well, I was just a country girl and Decatur was like New York City to me. I said I would.

"After that, every time he came to Hammond, we'd go to Decatur for dinner. Six months later he asked me to marry him and I said yes. His company was in Rockford, so that's where we lived."

I smiled.

"That must have been a big change from you. I've never been to Rockford, but even Decatur is pretty big for me. Too many people and they're all in a hurry."

Gwen smiled.

"Yes, it was a big change for me, but not for Jerry. I found out he was...Well, you probably don't want to hear about that. Besides, the other people are getting ready to go back to work and I need to take care of something before I get back on your machine."

I'd just pulled back into the field and started down the next four rows of female corn when I looked down to see if Gwen was still OK. She wasn't a big woman and I'd seen even some big girls have trouble in the afternoon. Those tassels seem to hold on tighter after you've already pulled a few thousand.

I could tell it was an effort for her, but she was doing fine. I smiled to myself. Whoever Jerry was, he was losing what I thought would be a great wife for some guy. She seemed like a really nice woman, and she was pretty nice to look at too, at least in the face. I couldn't see much of her now because of my shirt and pants she had on.

I suppose it's that feeling you get when you know somebody is watching you. Gwen turned around and looked up at me, and when she did, my shirt gaped open at the neck.

Evidently that thing Gwen said she had to take care of was taking off her T-shirt, and she'd left the top three buttons of my shirt undone. I was looking down at some really soft-looking, really nice cleavage, and I could just see the edge of one bra cup peeking at me.

Gwen frowned.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, you're doing fine. I was just checking to make sure."

Gwen smiled then and went back to pulling tassels. I went back to driving and wondering about the rest of her story.

I didn't find that out that first day. At about five, I drove the detasseling machine back to the main building and all the girls got off and went home. Gwen did too, after she went into the main building restroom and put her T-shirt back on. She came out holding my jeans and my shirt. She smiled when she handed them to me.

"Thanks for letting me use these today. I won't make that mistake again. See you tomorrow."

I watched her drive off, then put my shirt and jeans in my truck and drove home.

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The next morning, Gwen walked over to where I was getting my detasseling machine ready.

"Morning, Mr. Hayes. Like how I'm dressed today?"

I looked at Gwen and grinned.

"I'm not old enough for that "mister". I'm twenty-four and I don't think I'm much older than you are, so call me Jeff."

"I just thought since you're my boss, I should call you mister. You are older than I am though. I'm twenty."

Her shirt was light blue and fit a whole lot better than mine had. The top three buttons were undone, just like yesterday, but since it fit her tighter, the neck didn't gape open quite as much. All I saw was the start of her cleavage.

Her jeans fit tight enough there was no doubt the ass they covered was round and feminine. I could just make out the curve of her thighs, but not her lower legs.

"You're dressed just fine, Gwen."

She grinned.

"I didn't have a white shirt, but I figured this one would do. I'm not really looking to get a tan like those young girls."

"The color doesn't really matter. Keeping your skin from getting cut and sunburned does though. You ready for another day?"

Gwen laughed.

"I'm pretty stiff after yesterday, but I think I'll make it."

Gwen did better that day. I glanced down at her from time to time, and she wasn't missing many tassels. She had her back to me most of the time, so I couldn't see her face, but the way she pulled each tassel told me she was determined not to miss any.

When I stopped for a break after each round, Gwen would hop off her platform and head out into the corn. A couple minutes later, she'd come back for a drink of water.

We ate lunch together that second day, but Gwen didn't tell me anymore about why she was getting a divorce. I was really curious about that. Today, it seems as if women divorce their husbands about as often as men divorce their wives. Back then, that wasn't the case. There wasn't a cause like "incompatibility" or "no fault divorce" like today. It had to be that he'd beat her up or had been unfaithful, and she'd have to prove either in order to divorce him.

It wasn't until the second week she told me. We'd finished lunch and were sitting there resting when she looked at me.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Jeff?"

I shook my head and grinned.

"No, I run a farm besides doing this. I'm too busy. Why? Are you asking for the job?"

Gwen laughed.

"No, nothing like that. I just wondered, that's all. You seem to be a man most girls would like."