Tom had spent his life collecting tractors. Every time one broke down, or became hopelessly out of date, he refused to sell it, instead keeping it in a large barn.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, since he had grown tired of tractors, he decided to sell off his massive collection. 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 businessman whose company had built many of the tractors mentioned in the ad and who had an interest in old vehicles himself.
After a couple more letters the two arranged to meet in the farmer's local tavern. The businessman arrived on the appointed date and went into the tavern. He soon located the farmer, despite the very heavy clouds of pipe smoke in the air. An hour passed in most pleasant conversation, as the pair turned 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 businessman, "but maybe we could go somewhere else. I find it very hard to concentrate with this much smoke in the air."
"There's no need for that," said the farmer, "watch this." He 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 did you manage that?" gasped the businessman.
"Oh, it was nothing," replied the farmer. "I'm an ex-tractor fan."
