Fall has always been my favorite time of year. I love the way the air feels and smells, and the trees are more beautiful than in any time of year. One of my favorite fall activities is a good, old-fashioned hay ride. Every year my aunt and uncle would host a family gathering out at their place, and we would have a hay ride. Everyone looked forward to it, all in till one year. We were rolling along in the woods, then all of a sudden two of are wagon tires fell into an old creek bed that was beside the trail that we were taking. I guess that my uncle didn’t realize until it was too late. The wagon started to tip over. Everyone started yelling as loud as they could, trying to get him stop, (he was in one of those closed off tractors) but it was too late. All the hay bales started to slide down onto all the great aunts, who were sitting down at the bottom off the wagon with their heads in the weeds. I was at the top, clutching the wagon’s sides, and hoping that I would not slide down and crush one of my great aunts. All us kids considered the wagons tipping over on to its side huge fun, but my pregnant mother and the great aunts thought otherwise. Since the tipping of the wagon, almost all of my relatives have avoided the hay rides, so year after year, fewer and fewer people joined us for the fun, so after a while, my aunt and uncle cancelled the whole thing. We were very disappointed, until Dad, with the help of some friends fixed up an old Farmall H tractor and an old hay wagon. We were so excited. We didn’t know what to expect ether, for everyone knows what to expect on Uncle David’s hay rides (dunking us in the pond, people jumping out of bushes trying to scare us), but on this next hay ride with Dad behind the weal, who knows what could happen!!
by Emily Fowler