Most people who farm can tell you about doing something, and then later in life considering the danger, shrugging and saying, “That’s just how we did it.” One I recall occurred when Caleb, then 7, and Cierra, 6, were with me shelling corn.

We were in a 200-acre, Z-shaped field. An 80-acre tract was planted to long rows along the road. We took loaded trucks out of the middle perpendicular to the rows because we couldn’t enter on either end of the field.

As I shelled into the field, the loaded truck would be further from the road each time, several picked rounds from standing corn. With the truck loaded, the empty combine sitting beside it was equally as far from standing corn. The routine was to load up my only truck, shut off the combine, and run the truck to market.

I’m not sure why now, but this semi never had a passenger seat. My children sat on a small chair next to me, no seatbelt, going to the elevator. One time, returning with the empty truck, as we approached the combine, I looked over at the kids bouncing across rows and had a crazy idea.

I set the throttle at 4 miles per hour on the semitractor and told Caleb to take the truck back to the standing corn. I would bring the combine. He had never been behind the wheel of the semi, never even sat in front of me and steered it.

Good ending

I know — crazy idea. And I would never really do it, but Caleb didn’t know that. I stepped out of the truck without another word and stood on the running board, holding onto the handrail. I never intended to leave them. Caleb had no idea how to stop the truck.

I stood there many seconds. The truck continued straight toward standing corn where it needed to go. I swung the door open. Seven-year-old Caleb stood in front of the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the steering wheel. He looked at me and said, “Thank goodness.” Cierra’s big dark eyes were the size of saucers. I slid into the driver’s seat.

“Caleb, what were you going to do when you got to standing corn?” I asked.

“I was just going to go in circles until you got here with the combine and stopped it,” he said.

I was proud of that young boy. Under extreme, instantaneous pressure, he formulated a plan of what to do with that semitractor and hopper bottom trailer bouncing across that cornfield. I knew at that moment he was destined for great things to come.

Before you turn me into Child Protective Services for child endangerment — hopefully statute of limitations has run out — I didn’t think then it was a dangerous situation. But later, I thought, “What if I’d have fallen off the truck doing that silly stunt?”

Safety should be our first thought in all daily farm operations. I’ve seen farmers crawl under a corn head without the safety stop in place or get into a grain bin to check grain quality as the auger fills a truck.

Many of us have taken unsafe steps while farming. Stop for a minute and think, “What if?” Be better than me. Do it before putting danger in front of safety.

Schmicker writes from Winamac, Ind.