They hooked the links to a hydraulic winch and dragged the iron implement up the steep metal ramp.

I stood on the frost-covered grass and handed the foreman his clipboard.

“We’re taking the baler next,” the foreman said.

I pointed toward the far side of the equipment shed.

“The tires on that one are flat,” I said.

“You’ll need the forklift to get it onto the trailer.”

The foreman waved his arm, and a yellow machine rolled out from behind the barn.

My new white pickup truck was parked near the mailbox.