An old English farmer had spent his life collecting tractors: every time
one broke down irreparably or became hopelessly out of date, he refused to
sell it, instead keeping it in a large barn. He even bought used tractors
from other farmers. He worked on them and polished them, treating them
like museum exhibits. Eventually it came time for him to retire, and he
decided to sell off his massive collection so that he could live
comfortably with his wife in a nice country cottage. So he put
advertisements in local and national papers, and waited. He didn't have
long to wait: a few days later he received a letter from a visiting
American businessman, whose company had built some of the tractors
mentioned in the advert and who had an interest in old vehicles himself.
After a couple more letters the two arranged to meet in the farmer's local
inn/pub on the coming Saturday. That evening came and the businessman
arrived. Despite the heavy clouds of pipe smoke, and an hour passed in
most pleasant conversation, the pair turning out to have much in common.
"Well," sighed the farmer eventually, "I haven't had such a good yak for a
long time, but I suppose it's about time we got down to business, eh?"
"Sure," replied the other, "but maybe we could go somewhere else? Y'see,
I'm findin' it kinda hard to concentrate with this much smoke." "Ah,
there's no need for that", said the farmer, "watch this!" He then
proceeded to take an amazingly deep, deep breath, sucking in every last
particle of smoke in the room. Then he leaned over to the partially open
window behind him and blew all the smoke out into the night. "Hey, how the
heck did you manage that?" gasped the American. "Oh, it was nothing; you
see, I'm an ex-tractor fan."
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