Trac-tor

I am Trac-tor. I have a nylon casing with spikes on my shoulders and I am from planet Chugmore. If you triangulate upon Chugmore, America and China, and derive the locus, you find the planet Gourdamire. But, that's a different story.

I also have hair that looks like tina turner's on a very bad day, and it ROCKS. In fact, most things about me ROCK. That is, I ROCK. This is for reasons I will now describe.

On Chugmore, there is a supersaturated methane atmosphere, with large quantities of titanium dioxide and silicone on the crust. There is one large ocean and the land/ocean ratio is about .81. The unique chemistry of this planet led to the develpment of many single celled organisms, but nothing organic evolved much further. Instead, the bacterium learned to harness microchannels in the titanium dioxide deposits along with methanol condensate to perform very precise locamotion. The result of these activities over millenia led to a new race of biengs; robots for all purposes. That is, they are robots, with a dictostillium nucleoid.

They evolved a robust intelligence, and in the process, were interested in their profound inability not to ROCK. They supposed ROCKING ROCKED, so they created organic biengs that would ROCK very hard. These first Chugmorenites were my ancestors, and they ROCKED very much.

After about 30 minutes of ROCKING thoughout 60000 generations (timescales are very different on Chugmore), the robots decided that they didn't want us around, and they decided to kill us. The Chugmorenites, refusing to stop ROCKING, because that's really what ROCKING is all about, allocated a subset of their race for war. The Chugmorenauts. I am a Chugmorenaut. N.B. all Chugmorenauts are Chugmorenites, but not all Chugmorenites are Chugmorenauts.

On a rogue flight to Gourdamire, I missed a turn and found myself here on earth. My ship has crashed, and I have developed an extreme amnesia. The only cure for my condition is memory sauce, or as you humans like to call it: beer. So, here I sit, unlike you, but strangely the same: Rocking out and drinking massive amounts of memory sauce in hopes that I may find my way home and destroy the robots. Please accept my place in this world, as one day, you humans may come across a similar situation, and may already have...