As long as I can remember, I have always liked tractors. My mother said that when I was a very small boy I knew most makes of tractors used during the 1940s, and I could identify them out in the fields as we drove by. Of all the different tractors farmers used during that time period, I had my favorite… the John Deere. Whenever we would arrive at the farm from Dallas, I would head out to the field where Grandpa would be plowing. I loved riding on that old tractor; I loved the sound of the engine, and the smell of burned coal oil. I was in "hog heaven" when I was on that tractor.

Sometimes I would be helping Grandma with something, and all of a sudden I would hear the popping of the tractor. Needless to say I'd leave Grandma high and dry and head for the tractor shed. I'd usually get there before Grandpa backed it out of the shed. I liked to sit on the tractor when Grandpa cranked it. He'd make sure it was in neutral, open the pit cocks to release the cylinder pressure, push the choke down, and push the throttle to the half-way position. You had to make sure the fuel valve was turned to gasoline since it had to be started on gasoline. When all of the preliminary adjustments were made, Grandpa would turn the flywheel. He didn’t have to turn it but two or three times before the engine would hit. After it would hit once he would put the choke at the half way position, and resume turning the flywheel. It usually started after a couple of turns. When it started to run, the choke would be pushed all the way up. I knew exactly HOW to start the tractor long before I was physically strong enough to crank it myself. I recall times when I went down to the tractor shed and tried to start the tractor. I would hang on the big flywheel, but I wasn't heavy enough to turn it over. As I got older and a bit bigger I could turn the engine over, but I still couldn't turn it past the compression stroke. There's no telling how many times I tried to start that tractor. I'd do just fine until the compression on the cylinders made me give up.

Each year as I got a little bigger my obsession to crank the tractor continued. I just had to start the John Deere. One day after dinner, I went down to the tractor shed and got everything set to start the tractor. I pulled the flywheel around until I hit the compression stroke. I thought I'd have to give up again, but this time I strained and groaned until I got it over the top and the engine fired and started running. I'll never forget that day. The countless times I failed to start it finally gave way to success, success that actually scared me when it came. Here I was a nine-year-old kid, at the tractor shed, by myself, with the tractor running and I'll never forget my thought, "What am I going to do now?" In all the excitement I forgot how to kill the engine. Grandpa, whom I'm sure was a bit curious as to "what on earth" was going on, came down to the shed from the house, and turned off the engine. He wasn't angry with me, but he was a bit concerned that I might have been hurt since I wasn't old enough to be messing around with the tractor. From that day on I felt like I had conquered the "great flywheel," and I was extremely proud of my accomplishment.

That tractor was the only tractor Grandpa ever owned. In 1936, he traded his mules (Pete and Jack) and all his horse-drawn equipment in on that tractor. He brought it from the dealer at Clifton. The Model A John Deere, and other "new" row crop tractors revolutionized the farming industry in the 1930s and 1940s. The John Deere was unique in that it would burn gasoline, coal oil, kerosene, diesel, or just about any petroleum distillate you could pour into the tank. The Model A had to be started on gasoline, but after the engine warmed up it could be switched to kerosene, or coal oil, in the larger tank. Kerosene gave the tractor more power, and it was cheaper than gasoline.

I'll never forget another special day. At Christmas in 1970, Grandpa, Jan, and I were outside around a wash pot cooking lutefisk. Grandpa told me he wanted me to have his John Deere. He said that tractor probably meant more to me than anyone, and he felt I should have it. Of the earthly things I possess, that tractor means as much to me as any other. 

JMW/January 1978

Back to history.mustangtexas

Back to As I Remember