I stood behind the running tractor in the hundred-degree heat, hands on hips, surveying the damage, wondering what else could go wrong.
The story actually began in May when I dug
the old Flex Rod out of its grassy cover, its last use in 1989. The Flex Rod was built in Bird City, Kansas,
probably in the sixties or seventies.
The factory was short-lived, so
there are probably not many left in the world.
I came by the machine from my local ag
junkyard, which I sorely miss. It proved
to be a little too big for my 2-cylinder John Deere tractors, so it didn’t ever
get much use.
When I dug it out in May, it was just to
be a fallback in case I couldn’t find something bigger and better for my “new”
tractor. Sure enough, I haven’t found
anything yet, and the weeds in the summer fallow refuse to engage in a
cease-fire while I continue my search.
So, last week I began restoring the old
thing. It had one inflatable tire, two
tires more than half consumed (I suspect ground squirrels or pocket gophers),
and one rotten tire. On Saturday, I
arranged for four new tires and delivered the old rims to the dealer.
I picked up the new tires on Wednesday and
spent Wednesday afternoon and much of
Thursday packing rusty wheel bearings with grease and mounting new tires. I finished the job Friday Morning.
It
was all complicated by the hundred-degree heat (combined with 74 years of
experience) and the tall grass that the wet spring produced. Using the frontend loader on my other “new”
tractor, I was able to dislodge the machine and get it out of some of the
grass, but there was still plenty of growth since May.
The last wheel packed and tire mounted,
late Friday morning found me trying to get a hydraulic cylinder mounted. My first choice wouldn’t work because of
plumbing problems. The one that worked had to be removed from another machine.
Then, I had to free up the rods and grease
u-joints and other bearings. Finally, about
2:30 P.M., the minute of truth arrived
and I took it out for a test run. It passed!
I took off for the summer fallow. I had the machine out of the ground to travel
the half mile to the field. But I didn’t
get very far. Bouncing up and down over
the rough ground dislodged the hitch pin. The hydraulic hoses were all that was dragging
it along.
Fortunately, I looked back in time to see
what happened before any real damage occurred. No longer fastened to the tractor, the weight
of the Flex Rod was all behind the wheels, resulting in the front end of the machine, the hitch frame,
sticking up about six feet in the air.
After a few moments of contemplating who
or what in the universe had it out for me and was enjoying my frustration, and
a few (more than a few?) unprintable words, I realized the solution was to
carefully lower the machine using the hydraulics, trying not to let it fall
with a thump and really do some damage, to itself, to the tractor, or to me.
Once both front end and back end were
safely on the ground, I disconnected the two hydraulic hoses and went through
the process of hooking up to the machine all over again, (Note: when speaking of farm implements “hooking
up” doesn’t mean the same thing as it means in modern parlance.) In about ten minutes, I was on my way again. This time, the hitch pin was also pinned so
the tongue could not escape no matter how severe the bouncing.
I am happy to report that the powers that
be found no more amusement in frustrating me.
I was able to get over the 160 acres without further incident.
“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport.” Gloucester, in King Lear. Or maybe they just pester us some.
