In that precise moment, Baxter Hicks realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life. It was not his undeniable death after trying to push a tractor up a steep hill in a snowstorm. Nor was it the bright idea to drive the tractor home from the bar after six or nine shots of tequila. It was not letting cabin fever get the best of him. It was not the cocaine mostly cut with baby laxative he bought from his shit for morals neighbor. It was not the mild diarrhea.