by Rob Perez

The Hayride

Many traditions abound in October. Most, it seems, circle round in anticipation of Halloween. Some traditions are seasonal (harvest time), others are decorative (mind the pumpkin), and one is absolutely inexplicable.

No, I’m not talking about the pumpkin spice latte. (That enigma belongs to September.) I am afraid it is high time we consider The Hayride.

A hayride is, of course, as the name suggests, part hay, part ride. The hay part includes a quantity of hay we measure, for some reason, in bales. A bale of hay is exactly the weight of the actor Christian Bale in the role of Batman. The ride part of the hayride involves a tractor that pulls a trailer. Atop the trailer, there are many Christian Bales of hay. Patrons sit atop the hay and pretend to not notice the straw poking them into their person.

It would be generous to describe the pace of “the ride” as “leisurely”. A more accurate description of the speed of a tractor pulling a wagon full of people would be “straight-from-the-fridge maple syrup”.

The journey of the hayride is not complicated. It starts here and goes there. Once there, riders disembark, explore, maybe harvest a thing, maybe a pumpkin or an apple. Then riders return to “the ride” and forthwith returns to whence it came, back to the point of origin. You know, it goes from there to here. In summation, “a ride” is from here to there and back again.

Let it be known that I am not a thrill seeker. Unless they’re going down, I do not jump out of planes. I have never longed to strap a jet pack to my back. And I have never once enquired about being shot out of a canon. And yet the endorphin rush of a hayride is roughly half of what we get when we check our mail.

The most common thing said about hayrides is that they’re “bumpy”. On the one hand, life is indeed filled with a few bumps in the road. Bumps are, of course, a metaphor for a protuberance on a level surface. On the other hand, if everyone agrees a thing is pretty bumpy, why offer the riders a cup of piping hot apple cider? I know it’s an apple orchard but hot apple cider is not at its best when it’s “to go”.

Some might protest, But Rob, it’s about the journey. It’s about the scenery. It’s about being in nature! Perhaps. However, the journey, from here to there and back again, is slight. The scenery is a scarecrow (although now we see why the crows might not like straw). And my idea of being in nature does not include breathing the exhaust of a diesel engine.

Did I mention the seats are made of hay? Do you know any other mode of transportation that involves hay? Hay is prickly and poky. Some say the word “poky” only means dull or cramped. But whoever said that never sat on a bale of hay. Yes, I am familiar with Little Boy Blue who could, according to Mother Goose, sleep under a haystack. But that kid looked after the sheep with a horn and, in my opinion, lacks work ethic. In other words, hay is for horses.

Look, I respect the attempt to rebrand a farm as more than a farm. Visionaries have put a baseball field on a farm. On a family farm near Charles City, Iowa there is a grass tennis court that is as beautiful as anything you will see at Wimbledon. Crop circles are also great conversation pieces. But other farmers, those with narrower dreams, offer The Hayride. Thank you but no thank you. I will walk.