Reflections on a Farmall C
There are people who remember every car they’ve ever owned. I’m not one of them. But I do remember my first vehicle. In fact, we still have it.
I know, the title of this article gives away the answer. And it wasn’t exactly mine. It was the family tractor, and it predates my birth.
Our Farmall C tractor is a late 40s, early 50s model. It’s had lots of repairs over the years, including some jerry-rigging, but she still runs, and I still love her.
We brought her south with us when we moved from Pennsylvania. That was a no-brainer. I wasn’t about to give that tractor up. Though my friends Mike and Cindy Snyder tried to talk me into it. (Yes, I’m calling you out, Mike and Cindy!! They wanted our old cook stove, too. Some people.)
We had other tractors over the years. A Farmall H, which was a pain to drive. A Ford tractor (I think) that my brother and his friend put a truck engine in. I never drove that. And my brother also had a backhoe. I definitely never drove that. But I loved driving my C.
The kids in my family learned to drive a tractor young. It became second nature to us. It was not unusual for myself or one of my nieces to be out in the hayfield alone, mowing or raking the hay or pulling the hay wagon up to the barn. My brother had to back the wagon into the barn because none of us ever learned to back with a load behind the tractor.
That tractor has served many purposes. It pulled many loads of firewood. It towed a stuck vehicle or two out of a snowbank. And pulled a breached calf out of its mother.
What’s that, you say? Yes, it happened.
The first-time mother apparently had been bred with a larger breed, and she was not able to birth the calf. The vet’s solution (seeing that the calf was already deceased, and we wanted to save the mother) was to hook up the tractor and gently pull the calf out.
Which is what we did.
Up to that point in my life (I was about 12) I had wanted to be a vet. Watching that “operation” changed my mind.
So now I’m a writer.
The tractor also ran a race with an errant steer. It was Labor Day, and this long-legged Holstein steer would not stay in the pasture. My brother wanted to get him in the barn until it was cold enough to butcher, but this steer was not having it. We tried to herd him in, but as soon as the gate was opened, he veered off and went his own way. This talented steer literally stepped over the fence to return himself to the pasture. Then when we again attempted to herd him into the barn, he stepped over the fence to get out of the pasture.
This became a dance that was repeated several times. We were never able to get in front of him to head him off. He was just too fast. So my brother decided to get the tractors out. (Where’s a horse when you need one??) He drove the H, and I drove the C. Now we could go faster, but we weren’t as nimble as the wayward steer and the futility continued. And my brother’s temper grew shorter.
At one point we were chasing him in the pasture and the steer decided to cross the creek. My brother drove at the creek at full speed. I thought he was going to try to jump the creek. I heard my mom say, “He’s going to kill himself!” We all held our breath.
Sanity prevailed, and he stopped at the edge of the creek.
That was the last straw. When he drove out of the pasture he said to his wife, “Go get the gun.”
I hope I don’t have to explain what that meant. It’s become a legend in my family that is recounted at least once a year around a holiday table: this family labored on Labor Day.
The tractor came south with us, as I said before. It’s a nostalgic, satisfying, joyful sight to see the tractor come up the road (and often through my yard). There’s nothing better than to hear the engine singing its happy song as it pulls the trailer – still hauling wood – or grapples a tree my brother was cutting down in order to keep it from falling on my niece’s house.
I imagine most farmers can identify with this. Now that my nieces and I are off the farm, we live the farm life vicariously. My niece and I were traveling to another town and drove past a tarm store. I slowed down, and we oohed and aahed over the pretty tractors.
You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.
I can’t leave this article about tractors without mentioning an elite square dance group back home. Hometown crew – if you know who I mean, drop a link in the comments.
They were, of course, a tractor square dance group. I saw them perform once, and it was the coolest thing I ever experienced. (At least up to that time. Recently I was within 100 feet of a helicopter when it took off and I got blasted with the rotor wash and dust. THAT was the coolest thing I ever experienced!!)
I usually try to end my blogs with a Scripture or an inspirational encouragement. At first I thought, how in the world can I find inspiration in a tractor. But then I thought about how faithful our Farmall C has been over the years. At 75 or so years of age, the old woman keeps on ticking. She’s endured many injuries and multiple repairs over the years. She’s had replacement parts galore. But when we need her she’s ready to work.
That’s how we all should live our lives. There have been hard times. The difficulties of life. Heartbreaking circumstances. Disappointments. Through them all, God has been faithful. He will always be faithful.
2 Thessalonians 3:3 – “But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.”
What about you? Will you be faithful to him? Are you ready to serve Him when He gives the call?
Colossians 3:17 – “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”
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