An innate inability to operate machines

Growing up on a farm, I had many opportunities to become a great operator of machinery. Instead, I proved time and time again that it was probably for the best if I just stayed away from machines altogether.

1. The Honda Passport

I never could seem to balance, steer and accelerate all at once. That inability to multi-task led to a number of incidences. I have: (a) wiped out at the end of my parents lane trying to turn around. (b) gotten hung up on some stubby metal posts and ripped up some of the bike's underbelly. (c) crashed into the barn at an excess of five miles per hour.

2. The riding lawnmower
All in all, I was actually pretty good at operating the riding lawnmower. The only memory sticking out in mind right now is this: I tried to squeeze between a post that held up my parents' clothes line and the cable that anchored that post. I did manage to squeeze through the tight space. I also managed to snap off the top part of the gear shift stick.

3. The baler
Only once was I allowed to operate our hay baler. I had gone to a water park the day before we baled hay and came back with the worst sunburn of my life - complete with lobster red skin, impossible tan lines and blisters. Since I could barely move, I was spared from physical labor and put on the tractor. I wasn't a very good judge of depth, and for every two bales I made into the wagon, I would land one squarely in the field (I'm exaggerating this point a little, but it was definitely more than quite a few bales). Afterwards, my siblings and I had to do even more work driving around the field to pick up the errant bales. Needless to say, I wasn't the one that got to drive - I was picking up bales.