I admit it. For a while I was concerned Hayes wasn’t going to like tractors, trucks and cars. Really concerned. I know, I know, I’m an ass for being concerned about something so petty. But here’s the thing: I LOVE tractors, trucks and cars. I’m even kinda a savant about car models, horsepower, 1/4 mile specs, 0-60 (and 0-62, gotta read those pubs that report in KM). I was hoping I would have that in common with Hayes.

I mean, I still need a good reason to buy my Lotus, and if Hayes were excited about it, how can we deprive him?

Ok, that’s not fair. Jen is entirely supportive of my Lotus dream. She loves cars too. In fact, one of the first conversations we had was about cars. She knew what my WRX was, and I fell in love.

Enough of that sappy stuff. The point is, Hayes LOVES tractors, trucks and cars. According to my mom, I should have already know this, since he’s been making “Rmmm” noises for several months while dragging and pushing his toys about. No doubt copying me, since I’m laible to race about the house carrying him and making engine and shifting noises.

This, I am told, is much different than my younger brother who could have cared less about cars unless I was playing with them. He was more excited about baseball and numbers. He memorized the baseball encyclopedia when he was about 8. The whole thing. Yes, all of it.

So, no moment that finally punched me in the gut with Hayes was last weekend. We were out trying to buy slate for a path from our porch to the lawn. We were walking down a hill toward a parked tractor, and Hayes missed it entirely. I was dissapointed. We moved onto a path so we could no longer see the tractor and I put Hayes down. Then, the tractor started up.

Holy shit. I’ve never seen Hayes run so fast. He made a fastbreak down the path, whipped around the corner and tore through 6 inches of mud toward the tractor, finger pointing and screaming, “Whassdat? Whassdat?”

It was AWESOME. Yes, I’m now sure. Like father, like son! Vrmmm-Vrrrmmm!