Drive calves to a fattening-farm and don't die trying!

After a hell of a plunge and two days of mild rest to recover from my coccyx’s injury I decided to joined the horseback riders’ party to drive four hundred and sixty calves, thirteen kilometers to another field where they gain weight and then, bye bye little “calvies”… if you know what I mean.
However, who could manage to stay seated with this pain?! So I hop on a four-wheel and became the water-carrier for the occasion.
On that particular day, the sun shined on all his glory, and the coward little clouds were nowhere to be seen. The temperature was in its high 35º C (95º F) and the steam that the heart gave off was like riding inside a huge sauna.
My father was giving orders (as his usual self) and with a colossal task at hands, we started our way.
The calves are inexperience “little” creatures (whoever named them as baby cattle, didn’t know S… about sizes) who have never been herd to another place before, so no matter the road ahead, the rider showing them the way or us in the back pushing forward for them to move… they figured that running right and left was the correct approach.
As the injured one, I could've stay seated in the shadow of a tree and waited for the commotion to pass… but this damn temper of mine couldn’t stand inefficiency (the calves’… obviously!) so I grabbed my… bottle of water (ugh!) and headed for the thickest, most impenetrable underbrush to drive the calves back on the road.
One thing you learn while herding cattle, it’s if you get one, only one, to move in the right direction, the rest will follow…
So, there I was, swinging my bottle of water at them, screaming all this strange noises (a practical joke from our forearm who told us that they get scare by them), hunched like an old lady, with a hand in my lower back and trying with all my might to move thirty-five standing bodies from a big-ass bush, full of thorns and bugs… when the only thing that really did the trick was my little brother’s imaginative self, who turn-on the four-wheel and accelerated the engine, to make it sound like a motor-saw, and just like that, all thirty-five calves run towards the nearest exit… the road ahead.
So, the next time that you’re in a country house, doing farm labor, with precarious utensils and traditional methods… bring your top-of-the-line, high tech four-wheel.

Greetings from an injured/temperamental laborer