No one asked me about driving combine

 

It was the fall of 1966.  Potato break was fast approaching. For the uninitiated Potato Break is a three week school holiday in Carleton and Victoria Counties in New Brunswick, Canada.  The potato break, for which students begin classes in August to make up the time, had been instituted in 1960 and I was glad to have the opportunity to work in the harvest and earn some much needed money.   I was really anxious for this fall as it would be my second year working on a potato harvester for McCain Foods.  This was a major step up from picking potatoes.  But it was not to be.

 

A few days before the beginning of potato break we had a visitor. A car rolled in, a man got out and went to the barn or the field or where ever my Father could be found. This was normal practice in our community; however this time the male visitor soon came to the house and asked for me.  Leslie Bell was the visitor, he was a friend and neighbour and as a young teen I had followed his courtship and marriage with great interest.   Now there were one or two cute little Bell boys in their big house on the hill.

 

Leslie and Mona Bell

“I have a job for your,” Leslie said.

“Oh no,” I thought, “I do not want to babysit!”

“Oh…..”

“Yes, I want you to drive my new combine.”

“But I am going to work on the harvester for McCain’s”, I replied.

“I really need you”, said Leslie “and I will pay you an extra dollar an hour more than McCain’s”!!

“Well …………I am flattered but why me?  There are lots of men available!”  I have never heard of a woman; much let a girl, driving a harvester.  They are big machines which cut down standing grain, thresh out the oats (in our case) and spew that grain out into a truck which drives alongside.  The harvester also bales the straw and kicks it out to the other side. Multi functions, many opportunities for break down.

 

 

“I could get a young guy”, said Leslie, “but they would tear the machine apart and older men will not listen to my instructions.  Actually Mona (his wife) suggested you.  I have my grain to cut plus many others, including your father’s.”

Early one crisp fall morning saw me waiting for Leslie, yes he picked me up and delivered me and supplied me with lunches and snacks and water and chewing gum!  The combine was everything he said; it had a cab, a comfortable seat and even a radio.  Laurence Clair was driving the hopper truck and we were good to go.  Leslie gave me the instructions for the first field.  This is not as easy as it seems, some fields were cut working back and forth, some you worked all four sides.  It was important that the field was planned out so you dropped you baled straw on cut area and made the most efficient use of the grain.  I followed instructions. 

Driving combine was perfect job for me.  I drove slow and steady, actually just putted along.  Laurence or Leslie changed the rolls of baller twine before they ran out so we had no fouls in that area.  The days whizzed by, it was a perfect fall and we missed no time for rainy days or days to let the grain dry.  A windy weekend made one field a challenge and Leslie had to drive the tricky bit where the oats had gone down.  I was happy with my job and my employer and Leslie was happy with me. I could not believe my hefty pay when the three weeks were over. 

I never again drove a harvester, by the next fall I was married and pregnant, and I do not think Leslie ever hired another female, (although Janice Bell would have been a good driver when she was in her late teens).  And no one ever asked me about diving combine.