The tractor is red. The tires on the front, they’re small but the ones on the back are huge. Between the tires, that’s the spot where my brother and I stand. We hold o to the back of my sister’s seat for dear life. Barely moving we see the dirt come up between the tread on the huge tires.

My sister has total control of the tractor. This is all I can remember without thinking too much. My sister has long black hair.

Maybe she can carry John Allen to work tomorrow.