This is the tall tale I sent in to Country America magazine.

"Last fall during harvest I was driving the combine back and forth across the field and was watching the grain fill the tank behind the cab. As I looked over my shoulder, and saw all that corn filling the tank, I thought there must be a way to measure that corn because I wanted to know how much there was and how good it was. I put a computer in the combine and as I was harvesting, it was taking samples all the time and telling me how the corn was doing.

Now that I knew what kind of crop I had I wanted to sell it. I installed a cellular telephone in the cab and would call the elevator in town to sell the corn from the field. Then I connected the telephone and computer together and was just like the boys on Wall Street--computerized trading. I called the Board of Trade in Chicago and sold it direct. The computer was selling January corn, buying March corn all the time I was going back and forth across the field. After making all that money I wanted my check. I put a fax machine in the cab so I could get my check right away. Then I had a problem.

The banker wanted his hands on my check before me. I put a seat for him at the rear of the combine where all the dust, chaff, and dirt comes out and you know, he's such an ornery guy he actually liked it back there.

When harvest came to an end I left the combine out in the field with the engine running. Each day I go out there with 20 gallons of diesel fuel and a wagon. The fuel is for the day's running and the wagon is to empty the money out of the grain tank from the previous day.

Now I've got to get a bigger wagon."

That was the tall tale I sent into Country America. A few months went by and one day the phone rang. I answered it and at the other end I heard a man say, "I'm Dick Sowienski with Country America magazine." Now Country America is a good magazine and I'd been meaning to get a subscription so I was getting ready to say, "Sure, I'll take a couple year's worth."

Then he said, "You entered our tall tale contest."

I said, "I did."

He said, "You won."

I won! Hooooly cow! That meant I got the $500 prize. Then he said, "We're sending a photographer so you can be in the magazine with your tall tale."

A few days later a photographer drove here and we took lots of pictures.

A few months went by and then in the February, 1992 issue of Country America, there I was looking at wagonload of corn and money with my beloved combine in the background.

I live in a town of 200 people and it didn't take any time to get out that I had won a liar's contest.

Then the teasing began. In fact, I thought I got teased more than I deserved.

We have a newspaper in our town. It's a monthly. Takes that long for anything to happen to write about. I decided I deserved the last word on this episode of my life so I wrote this piece I call Recognition and put it in the newspaper. It went like this:

I entered a contest fer tellin' lies.
I won five hundred bucks.
It was first prize.
Now my friends look at me 'n grin
'Cuz am I tellin' the truth or maybe fibbin' again?
So all day long I jes' keep a straight face
Jus' to keep 'em on their toes 'n put 'em in their place.
Ya' see, in this town you hear lies all day.
But I was the first to get a check fer pay.
Now I've got recognition, and they're jes' triers.
The difference 'tween me 'n them is they're cheap liars.

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