The Rural Voice, 1983-02, Page 42Inflation Beaters
USED TRACTORS
MF 1085 with cab
MF 275 with cab
MF 275
A4 -F-244; 4x, seR4.-6fâșeowncr SOLO
M F 265, low hours
MF 40 I.R. with loader
12,000.
11,500.
9,500.
12,000.
10,500.
10.500.
USED COMBINES
MF 750 diesel, used only 400 hours
MF 510 diesel
MF 510 gas
MF 82 S.P.
.39,500.
24,000.
14.000.
2,200.
USED EQUIPMENT
New Holland 352 Mix Mill 3,900.
MF 33 Drill 17 -run with grass box .. - 2,200.
MF 1163 Corn head 6 -row, used 1 year 9,500.
MF 43 Corn Head 4 -row 4,500.
New Idea Picker Sheller, ex. cond. 5,000.
John Deere 5x14 semi -mount plow 1,500.
Gehl 95 Mix Mill 3.800.
Bobcat Skid Steer 9,500.
Little Giant 30' Elevator 1600.
Chain Harrow 16' Pickseed 650.
sow 1200.
Bush Hog 14'/2' disc 2200.
MF 14' disc ex. cond 3800.
SERVICE SPECIAL
until February 28/83
Free pickup and delivery within 30 miles. 10%
discount on parts and labour for cash or three equal
monthly payments (April 1, May 1 & June 1) with no
interest added.
Midwestern Equipment (Listowel) Ltd.
MASSEY FERGUSON GEHL
LISTOWEL, ONTARIO
JACK NICKEL
PHONE 291-2697
Res. 291-2327
PG. 42 THE RURAL VOICE, FEBRUARY 1983
OVER THE BACK FENCE
PLASTIC CARD
ADVENTURE
by Tom Maplewood
The mails coughed up an unusual item for me last week. It
was a notice of registered mail which required a trip into town
in the half -ton. I hate these unscheduled excursions when I've
work to do but this one bothered me enough that I took off.
The post office contained a halfdozen
clerks as it usually does and about
three times as many customers. These
were all backed up at the registration
wicket. Only one clerk was portioned
out to deal with the line up, the rest
loitered about with nothing to do as is
their way. I fell in at the end of the line
and awaited my turn. In the time it took
to get to the front I could've milked
forty cows with one hand. I chewed my
lip and tried to stay polite as I was put
through the rigamarole of signing a
book in several places before being handed a big gray
envelope with my name typed near the middle. The envelope
bore no return address and I got just a little excited. Could it
be that we'd clicked with the Readers Digest Sweepstakes? I
nearly tore it to shreds trying to get into it. Finally, out
dropped a letter printed in colored ink on heavy stock. As I
retrieved it from the floor I saw there was a beautiful plastic
card fastened to the bottom section. My name was embossed
on it in gold. I was some impressed. I read over the bi-lingual
letter but it was mostly lawyer talk and in small print and I
couldn't make much out of it. Besides, most of the important
stuff was obscured by the card which I couldn't easily remove.
I pondered a bit and read back over the part of the letter I
could see. I'll be darned if I could make head or tail of it. I
gathered it was from a bank. Then it hit me. I was standing
looking stupid with something I didn't want in the middle of
the post office in the middle of a busy morning with lots of
chores back home that were in serious need of my attention.
I was jumping mad. I gripped the letter in one hand and
took purchase on the card with the other 'hen gave the whole
shebang a good rip. I got results. The letter was torn to
shreds. I pulled little strips of it off the card. With the
backside revealed I saw it was a credit card. I began to snort
and spit. All a good farmer needs when he's up to his nose in
money troubles to begin with is a bloody charge card. I was
mad enough to jam it down somebody's gullet. I fumed a few
minutes then decided on a course of action that might yield
some satisfaction for my lost time. I sauntered over to the
wicket where a clerk was poking among the parcels.
"Hey, who sent me this credit card I never ordered?" I
enquired in bold voice. The sourpuss looked at me a bit. I
could see he was annoyed.
Several of the other customers observed us with passing
interest. I had gotten about the reaction I expected so I
advanced to Phase 2. I reached down the left leg of my
coveralls and drew my ball -peen hammer out of its loop. Then
I gently set the plastic card in the middle of the counter and
raised the hammer high overhead. I took careful aim and
brought it down with a mighty swing. It made a helluva bang.
"Well, I don't want it! And stop sending me debt cards in
the mail!" This I roared above the din of the hammer as I
pounded it mercilessly onto the counter until the card was
reduced to pieces the size of bingo markers. The event drew a
nice crowd. By the smiles around me I had sympathizers. A
generous round of applause greeted me as I finished,
prompting me to remove my cap and bow before stomping