Rides We Like: Harvest

(2019) When I was a little kid I remember the excitement of seeing mobilized farm equipment racing to pull in the seasonal bounty. Staring out the window of the school bus mid-autumn, I tried to glimpse any indication the beasts were being prepped for long days of reaping. It was a treat when the clouds of chaff pointed back to an inching combine, spinning reaper and hanging auger, maintaining a field of soy in anticipation for market. I still get excited today to see these gigantic machines, though my imagination has been reeled in by age.

It had been quite some time since our last adventure with our ridekick, Mike. After much schedule shuffling, enduring illnesses not unique to the modern pedagogue, and family affairs, we finally met up on a back road, my start time delayed as usual. Why would things be different up to the moment we linked up? It is always enjoyable when Mike and I have a moment of contemplative silence after inquiring about a route. It means anything goes and structure is the last consideration. Today we pointed west, toward roads rarely touched by those from the center of Bucks. 

It took us into the center of a small town called Perkasie. I inquired - and pointed out - a restaurant called Maze. I highly recommended it on account that it focuses on corn and is headed by a Native American chef. We went through a trolley tunnel shortly after, which now served as a short pedestrian trail. After a couple of changes of directions, we went up and over a small ridge, circumnavigating a cemetary. I felt winded despite the short nature of the climb. Leaves were zig-zagging to the ground all around.

The second Case combine harvester passed us on new asphalt south of Lake Nockamixon.

It was just after we passed Lake Nockamixon that a strange truck came slowly toward us. The sign above the cab said “Oversized Load.” Considering the remoteness of the road we debated whether the sign was authentic. Perhaps it was a truck returning from earlier service. There appeared to be nothing following its sign. And then there was. 

Down came the telltale signs of an eight series Case combine harvester. It was oversized. It was red. It was spilling out of its lane and into ours. The combine harvester occupied so much space I pulled the bike into a driveway and excitedly readied to film its pass. The harvester’s operator and passenger waved. Shortly after, its grain cart passed by unceremoniously, at least to me. I don’t remember seeing the reaper or corn head in tow.

Mike and I discussed how exciting it was to see such a huge piece of machinery and left it at that. We continued to ride a course on whims and fits. We rolled down new pavement south of Lake Nockamixon only to see a reaper go by on a trailer. Sure enough, another red Case combine harvester rolled by, perhaps just as big. Seeing the machine in open space made it difficult to ascertain its true size, but it was admired nonetheless. 

We made a turn toward home and got the chance to continue conversing on a skinny backcountry road, highlighted by the sun passing through yellow and light green leaves. The buzzing of leaf blowers hard at work gave progression of seasons when the combines did not. After another turn, and there in the field was a John Deere combine harvester kicking up clouds of reaped soy. We paralleled its harvest path and I filmed it while matching the speed. We began to laugh at how many harvesters we crossed paths with.

Our third combine of the day was the John Deere reaping soy on a ridge south of Lake Nockamixon.

The route wouldn’t be without one more surprise as an ancient combine harvester, orange and stiff with age worked up a slanted hill like a cyclocross racer navigating an off-camber. This one was collecting corn, not soy. This one was in sight of the barn and cribs. I wondered if any of the farmers got excited to run the big equipment. 

We kept an eye out for a fifth harvester. After aiming for roads bordering farm fields we would not see another. Mike split off for home near the last field for me. Funny how the ride felt successful solely because of combine sightings and not the cycling aspect. I wanted to ride for two hours and came home well under that, though it felt like I was gone for an entire harvest season.

Throughout my life I assumed farmers harvested their crops according to the calendar. Recently I found out this was not true. The day after we saw four combines harvesting their fields, the area was hit with an all-day soaker that created tiny ponds in the least likely of places. The combines were opening their fields, possibly thinking this was the driest their bounty would be before it would turn into a loss. Harvest is determined by moisture content and not the date. All this demonstrates that decades later, I am similar in my attempt to view farm equipment, only I traded a school bus window for a road bike. In doing so I got even closer than before. That is tough to beat.