I saw this on FB. Thought it was pretty funny, and accurate.
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I went to a farm equipment auction today just to look around. That’s it. Just to “see what they had.” You know how that goes.
Five minutes in, I realized I had stepped straight into a redneck version of the stock market. The auctioneer’s talking faster than my brain can process, and every guy in a Carhartt jacket looks like he’s training for the Indy 500 of bidding.
There’s this one old boy in bibs yelling numbers before the auctioneer even asks for them. Another guy’s got a notepad out like he’s keeping track of his investments, but I swear he doesn’t even know what’s being sold — he’s just nodding and bidding like a man possessed.
One fella next to me leans over and says, “Don’t scratch your face or you’ll buy a hay rake.” I laughed. Then a guy across the way sneezed, and the auctioneer yelled, “SOLD!” So now I’m not so sure he was kidding.
Then comes a line of equipment that looks like it’s survived four generations, two tornadoes, and one really bad marriage. Rusty, squeaky, but every piece has “a good story behind it,” according to the guy selling it. He says that about everything — “Good old piece right here!” like he’s auctioning off history itself.
A skid steer rolls by with more hydraulic leaks than my grandpa’s knees. Someone yells, “RUNS GOOD!” like that fixes everything. It sold for way too much. The crowd cheered like they’d just watched a touchdown.
There was also this fella with a beard so long he could’ve used it as a chinstrap, telling anyone who’d listen, “If you’re gonna buy, buy early before the smart ones sober up.”
That’s actual financial advice at a farm auction.
Meanwhile, a woman in camo boots is arguing with her husband because he bid on a log splitter they already own. His defense? “This one’s newer.” It wasn’t.
By the end of the day, nobody’s walking out rich, but everyone’s grinning like they just won something. The auctioneer’s voice is shot, people are shaking hands over rusty metal, and someone’s kid is still running in circles pretending to drive a tractor.
I left with empty hands but a full brain, because watching those folks go at it was like attending church for the mechanically inclined — passion, commitment, and absolutely no logic.
Moral of the story?
A farm auction is where common sense goes to die and good stories are born. And I’ll probably go again next weekend.
