The farmer towed my car out with a tractor while I grumbled about the sorry state of our drive. The big wet had turned it into a water slide.
Pretty soon, he set off with the tractor and trailer to get limestone gravel saying, "I've got to do this because you want the drive fixed."
"That's not quite right," I replied. "The drive wants the drive fixed."
And now it was the farmer's turn. His ute's petrol cap fell off and the string that attached it was no match for the muck the wheels spat up with every turn. Pretty soon it was gone.
The farmer shoved a cloth and a stick in the hole but they soon went the same way.
When the quad needed a service, it got plopped by the tractor on to the tray of the ute and off the farmer went.
I was wondering what might have gone wrong when the phone rang. Could I pick him up? There he was plodding along the farm road, unamused despite the generosity of Lady Luck.
He'd got into town and delivered the quad before the ute stopped dead - 50 lucky metres from the woolshed. It wasn't raining. The sun was shining.
Soon it got towed to Whangarei. Water had got into the petrol.
The next day we planned to head to town to pick up the ute and celebrate my birthday.
Naturally, I had the morning off cattle moving thanks to our impending adventure and another stroke of luck - no electric fences had to be built that day.
Then I saw the farmer plodding along the road. My car, meanwhile, sat with its bonnet up and a battery charger hard at work.
He walked two kilometres to move cattle then another kilometre down the paddock - no quad, too much muddy sludge for it anyway. The farmer returned in the only vehicle left: the tractor.
"Battery won't be charged in time and we're off to Whangarei in the tractor?" I suggested.
But Lady Luck's been on our side. We went by car.