It's Mine to Fix — An Outlaw Song for the Man Who Holds His Own Wrench
It's Mine to Fix
Some folks think an outlaw song has to have a sheriff in it. Mine this morning has a sensor code instead.
Harvest doesn't wait polite. My combine threw a fault light over forty acres of beans rattling dry, and the dealership — through no fault of the folks answering the phone — said two weeks, maybe three, forty machines deep. There was a time that meant losing the crop. Not this year. This past July, the settlement with Deere finally put the repair tools on the farmer's side of the fence. So I backed my pickup under the barn lights, set my laptop on the tailgate, and fixed what I own.
Then the dealer's young tech showed up expecting a fight — and got a stool and a lesson instead. That's the turn. That's the whole song.
This one's for every hand who was ever told he'd have to wait.
Lyrics
[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Dawn comes up pink over forty acres ready
Beans so dry they're rattling in the pod
My combine throws a code I've never seen
P-0-4-something, blinking like it's proud
Dealership says two weeks, maybe three
Forty machines ahead of mine in line
Every sunset I can hear the neighbors cutting
Every idle hour's bushels left behind
[Verse 2]
I didn't call a lawyer, didn't cuss the parts man
Just backed my pickup underneath the barn's LED
Popped the tailgate, set my laptop level
Pulled the service manual they had to set free
That settlement last spring put the scan tool
In the hands of folks who turn the wrench
Sensor's just a forty-dollar whisper
Telling me the fuel rail's losing pressure
[Chorus]
It's mine to fix, mine to break
Mine to learn from my mistakes
If you can't mend the thing that feeds you
You don't own it — it owns you
I got grease under my fingernails
And harvest moon behind the clouds
It's mine to fix, mine to keep
My land, my rules, my pace, my peace
[Verse 3]
Dealer sent a kid out Tuesday morning
Polished boots, expecting some old man's rage
Found me elbow-deep in the intake manifold
With the scanner running live data on the page
He stood there with his tablet and his warranty
I said "Hand me that three-eighths, and watch this screen"
He pulled a stool up close beside my shoulder
Asked me how I knew the O-ring was the thief
[Harmonica Break]
[Chorus]
It's mine to fix, mine to break
Mine to learn from my mistakes
If you can't mend the thing that feeds you
You don't own it — it owns you
I got grease under my fingernails
And harvest moon behind the clouds
It's mine to fix, mine to keep
My land, my rules, my pace, my peace
[Bridge]
I ain't fighting John Deere in the courthouse
That war's been fought, the tools are on our side
I'm just showing this boy how to hold the flashlight
How to read the codes the machine can't hide
Come next year when his own tractor stumbles
He won't wait two weeks for permission slip
He'll pop the hood in his own gravel driveway
That's the crop I'm raising — a man who won't ask
[Chorus]
It's mine to fix, mine to break
Mine to learn from my mistakes
If you can't mend the thing that feeds you
You don't own it — it owns you
I got grease under my fingernails
And the drone's dark cross on stubble gold
It's mine to fix, mine to keep
My land, my rules, my pace, my peace
[Spoken Outro]
Yeah, the kid got it running by suppertime.
We stood there wiping our hands on the same rag,
watching the yield monitor count what we saved.
Two weeks at the dealership?
That's two weeks of bushels I don't get back.
But out here —
out here, if it feeds you, you better know how to fix it.
Otherwise, you're just renting your own life.
It's mine to fix.
Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio