John had barns upon barns filled with all kinds of tractors. New ones, old ones, shiny ones, dull ones, broken ones, working ones, tractor parts, tractor wheels. If it was a tractor, he had one.
After years of collecting tractors, he decided he was no longer interested. He tore his tractor calender off his tractor wallpaper, and smashed his tractor mug to the floor. The following day, John had sold all his tractors and tires, all his shiny ones and his dull ones, and even his old and new tractors too.
He spent the money from selling all his tractors exploring the world. From Maimi to Cairo, London to Tokyo and every spot in between. After a year, John became bored of travelling, and decided he needed a refreshing pint.
John returned to his local pub, and ordered a nice cool one. As he sipped at his frothy beverage, a group of men in the corner began to smoke. They were pumping noxious gas into the air like there was no tomorrow, and soon the room was thick with smog and people were choking on the harsh cloud.
John stood up, and walked over to the window. He took a deep breath, and in one majestic puff, he had blew all the smoke out of the window.
*"Oh my"*, said the landlord, *"How did you manage to do that?"*
John smirked for a second before replying-
*"Easy. I'm an ex-tractor."*
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