No amount of blood and sweat can prevent obsolescence
April 21, 2017
We all know technology is obsolete before you even get to see it most of the time.
You order that new phone and there’s already an upgrade before it gets to your door.
This is important as a concept because there is a lot of technology on the farm. Mind you, it does tend to advance at a slightly slower rate, but it is nonetheless a mess when you realize just how useless a piece of equipment has become.
There is both pleasure and pain that comes with the obsoleting of some critical tool in the farming process. Often, and hopefully, the new version of getting the job done is somehow easier.
You can’t help but appreciate things that make you get stuff done faster, cheaper, more comfortably, and with less likelihood of permanent (or even temporary) maiming and/or death.
But it is painful to see a tool that you’ve likely invested many dollars, much time, and a great deal of energy into in order to keep it running, be prepared for its likely breakdowns, and improve it so that it does advance and keep being worth it.
Alas, eventually, no amount of blood and sweat and modifications can prevent the inevitable state of irretrievable obsoletion and you must move on and get with the times.
If you were less busy farming, you might have had the foresight to see what’s coming and sell the dadgummed thing before everyone else figured out what was coming too. But no, you didn’t have that extra attention to pay and so the situation arrives where it is all but worthless.
You’ve already realized that you don’t need it anymore because you’ve acquired, one way or the other, its replacement. And so has everybody at the farm auction.
It’s amazing how many extra bottoms you have for that old-school lister that was the cream-of-the-crop in its day. You remember how many miles you traveled to collect the full set of that weird size with the proper hardening and bolt pattern. You see the former potential and the preparations that were made for a future that it didn’t have. And you see the equally clear truth that it is just no longer the way to do the job that it used to do.
Alas. Alas. So to the auction it goes, and out of your way. It seems like you’re selling it, because that would make sense, but in all but definition, you’re just giving it away. Alas.
Audra Brown just likes to sit and contemplate obsolete plow bottoms. Contact her at: email@example.com