He blew a hydraulic line, one small and slow in leak but—out of oil—broke him down all the same. Slow drip from continuous pressure, flash of hydraulic fault, he stopped, inspected, tracing lines from implement forward to tractor’s join—and there it was, small wear and drip in through. More often, lines straight blew.
To the west, rain fell in tail and trail from clouds. He felt its drip as he freed the line.
Fate, on Saturday where shop closed at noon; another was already there—in wait for another part. He would have the line today. He was not broke down for good—unless God decided for more than pass of sprinkle.
He held hope.
Waiting, he ate his lunch, first one without bouncing over field in many days’ time. It was nice to slow, to take world in, to view from hilltop vantage where, falling away, country scene stretched in all directions and vantage views.
Not all breakdowns are bad. Some are meant simply to still, to pause or stop and take life in. He chose to see line’s failing in this way.
There was blessing in the pause.