It comes as no shock to many of you that I grew up on a farm. As such, many of my "firsts" are farm related.

First taste of milk? Yep, right from the cow.

First ride on a horse? At 6 months old, on Sugar, one of the best horses ever.

First swim? Right in Sage Creek, about 20 yards from the house.

First vehicle driven? The family's little Ford tractor.

Of all the firsts, I believe the solo "flight" on the Ford tractor was the highlight.

Up until then, my brothers and I had seen my parents piloting cars, trucks, combines and tractors all over our property. We couldn't wait to come of age by grabbing a steering wheel, pushing the accelerator and popping the clutch.

The Ford Tractor, a 8N model that had been in the family since it was bought new in the early '50s, was perfect for a first ride. The controls were fairly simple, and, put in the correct gear, it was pretty easy to drive and forgiving if you strayed off course here and there.

At the ripe old age of 7, my twin brother and I took turns on the molded metal seat, practicing all the controls while dad was nearby giving pointers.

Finally, it was time to do the deed.

I'm pretty sure my brother went first. I couldn't tell you for sure, since I was so amped up I only remember my maiden voyage.

I plopped down on the seat, stood on the clutch and pushed the ignition. The engine sprang to life and I still remember that feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I swear I still feel it to this day, every time I turn over a motor.

By now I was familiar with the controls, and I set the idle up a few notches, chose a gear and gradually let out the clutch, hoping to impress dad with my driving prowess right out of the box.

When the clutch grabbed, the ensuing forward motion thrust my body backward, and my leg went with it. My foot was no match for the clutch pedal, and after a few herky-jerky motions I decided to just let the big dog hunt and I was off.

I managed to look back quickly to see dad shaking his head mildly, but I turned back around and set my sights on the road ahead. I somehow managed to avoid the ditches on either side and found a spot to turn around and headed back to the driveway.

My mind flashed forward to all those events yet to come in my life: The first ride in my first car, picking up my first prom date, my first race in the Indy 500, and so on.

I pulled into the driveway and managed to hit the clutch and the brake in close succession to end my first trip. I think dad was impressed, but hard to say if it was due to my ability or the fact that he still had an intact tractor and twin boys.

At either rate, my brother and I were now drivers. In the coming years, we'd become versed in operating everything else on the farm with a motor, from large tractors to grain trucks. And I enjoyed it all.

Driving anything to me equaled freedom. I'd like to say that I was a safe-and-sane driver all my years on the farm, but I'd be lying. There were a few times when, miles away from the house, I'd punch the gas and see if I could get all four wheels off the ground at the same time. Somehow, I managed to put them all back down on terra firma before any other part of the vehicle.

Some 40-plus years have passed on my odometer since that ride on the Ford tractor. I'd estimate I've driven vehicles at least 400,000 miles since then, and I look forward to the next 400,000.

Hopefully somewhere in that mileage is my shot at the Indy 500. I'm still waiting for a call.

Hmm... maybe I shouldn't start off my driving resume with my prowess on little Ford tractors.

You can attempt to reach Jerry Hitchcock at 664-8176, Ext. 2017, or via email at jhitchcock@cdapress.com. Follow him on Twitter at HitchTheWriter.