One of 500 tractors

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist
 
Their steam whistles trill, their fly ball governors spin, and their massive wheels turn slowly as they pass over the hard packed ground. Steam hisses from their release valves. Smoke rises from their stacks, and the air is dense with the scent of oil and ash. Soot falls on everything, and it is all perfectly magical.

Children cruise by on vintage garden tractors right along beside the giant steam tractors. Whole families ride along perched atop their favorite machines, making their way over to the homemade ice cream stand. The sweet treat is churned by hit and miss engines that chug along, barely keeping up with demand of the long line that stands before them.

Crowds pass by on the dusty ways. People stop to look, admire, and learn from the many exhibitors while the sound of antique engines hums along as the background to every conversation. Sometimes folk cup their hands around their ears to hear better. Other times the sounds are so loud they even cover their ears completely, but all the while, everyone smiles.

This is the 54th Ohio Valley Antique Machinery Show. This is that time of year when folks come from near and far and wide to proudly parade their vintage machinery and share their stories with those who come to listen, stroll across the grounds, and take it all in.

I would never have imagined that my life would lead me from the sidewalks of New York City, to sit on a 1945 McCormick Deering 04 Orchard Tractor. I would never have imagined that I would someday be excited beyond measure to ride my little red tractor in the tractor parade, barely be able to wait for the parade to start. This year I was tractor No. 312 out of 500 designated parade positions.

The tractors sit in long rows, lined up in numerical order, this year under a clear blue sky. The sun shone down. It was hot, very hot. As parade time approaches, every parade participant heads out into the tractor field to stand beside their tractor and their fellow paraders. We wait and chat about our various projects. We share and learn from each other. One fellow had found a steel wheeled tractor lying in a creek. He got it out of the creek and worked on it to get it running. He proudly stood beside it.

In time I see the drivers in the first tractor row climb up into their seats and start their machines. I know that many do so hoping that their vintage tractor will cooperate and start on this particular day. We all understand that sometimes a jump or a pull is required.

Then I watch as the show directors pass down the rows, and with a subtle nod or wave of a hand, signal the driver of each tractor to pull out and take their place in line.

I wait to climb up into my seat. The fellow next to me does so, and so do I. He starts his engine. I start mine with both a smile and a sigh of relief. We wait, tactors running in the hot sun. I keep an eye on both engine temperature and oil pressure. The directors pass down the rows ahead of us. I watch as those tractors slowly pulled out. Perspiration truckles down the back of my neck and I don't know if it’s due to sitting in the sun with the heat from my engine wafting back to me, or my excitement. I decide to wrap my hair up under my hat. The breeze blowing across my neck feels wonderful.

And then I watched as a director makes his way down our row. The fellow ahead of me pulls out, and with a nod, the director standing before me signals me to follow along. I do, and I am off in what is likely my 20th tractor parade. My heart soars.

We snake our way up the sun-baked aisle, through a grove of cooling trees, and down a slight hill. The reviewing stand lies just ahead. I breathe deeply and drive out from under the shade of the trees. The spectators smile and wave. I wave back, and then the announcer tells the crowd about my little red orchard tractor, how she was one of only 2721 ever built, how rare it to find one with all of the skirting sheet metal with which she is dressed, not to protect the tractor, but rather to protect the orchard trees through which she passes, and how she is driven with a hand clutch, exceedingly rare for a McCormick Deering. Finally, he thanks me for bringing her to the show.

Other tractors may be far larger, much more powerful, or dressed in finer paint, but my little 04 and I feel special. I smile and wave to the crowd as we passed by.

Some folks may look forward to their anniversaries, others to their birthdays, or the holidays, but I look forward to the tractor parade. I know that I am a very fortunate former city dweller indeed.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com. 

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