The morning silence was shattered by the deep rumble of a diesel engine shaking my kitchen windows. I looked out and couldn’t believe my eyes: a massive green tractor was rolling down the lane.
But the most terrifying part was the driver. He could barely see over the steering wheel, looking exactly like a first-grader who had somehow hijacked his father’s farm equipment.
I wasn’t the only one witnessing this safety violation. Mrs. Gable, the self-appointed neighborhood watch captain, was already sprinting across her lawn, screaming into her cell phone.
“He’s going to kill someone! Send a patrol unit now!” she shrieked, her voice audible over the engine. The tractor hissed and pulled to a stop on the shoulder, the engine idling loudly.
The cabin door swung open, and the driver began the long climb down the ladder. He was tiny, with chubby cheeks and small hands, wearing blue overalls that looked like a Halloween costume.
Mrs. Gable blocked his path, hands on her hips. “Get down from there, you little brat! Where are your parents? I’m making sure they go to jail for this!” she yelled right in his face.
A police cruiser skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust less than three minutes later. Two officers stepped out, hands resting near their belts, clearly confused by the surreal scene.
“Step away from the vehicle!” the sergeant commanded, trying to sound authoritative to a child. Mrs. Gable pointed an accusing finger. “Arrest his parents! This is child endangerment!”
The driver finally hit the dirt. He stood barely three feet tall. He didn’t cry, run, or ask for his mommy; instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up.
The officer’s jaw dropped, and Mrs. Gable gasped, choking on her own outrage. “What are you doing?! Put that down!” she screeched, reaching out to snatch the cigarette.
“Officer, are you going to check my papers, or can I get back to work?” the “boy” asked. His voice was high-pitched, but the tone was weary, cynical, and undeniably adult.
He pulled a worn leather wallet from his back pocket and handed a driver’s license to the sergeant. The cop took the card, looked at the photo, then at the driver, and back at the card.
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