The challenges of old Iron

Aka... Blood, sweat, bandages and a bent carb.

My good friend "D", stalwart accomplice in many of my rust retrieval efforts tries to revive my latest haul a few weeks ago, in the junkyard I found it in.

My need for a running loader tractor drove me to hunt down a running machine. We found the Super C, (we being another regular character and myself ) resting and rusting in the "Good junk" area of our local ag salvage operation. After they proved to me it ran, (It did run) I made the trip to ag credit and begged a loan, conned Uncle Ted into helping me and off we went.

Farmall #3 came home.

All that was well and good, and one cold March weekend I became the proud owner of a mid 1950's International Farmall Super C. I drove it off the trailer, around the barn once and into it's slot in the barn. Then we started trying to patch it up. All antique tractors pose challenges, this one needed a rim replaced, which involved me and Dad manhandleing 500lbs of loaded wheel assembly off the tractor and onto my trailer.

To be honest, it needed/needs a load more than that, I've been chasing gremlins right and left on what was supposed to be an "Easy" project, cables were frayed, plug wires were botched, sparkplugs were mismatched, all the fun little projects of it's previous owners had to be undone.

Today was the 14th project day dedicated to trying to fix the Super C's Carburetor. Now, generally I have a talent for carburetors, rarely to I have to fiddle with one more than a few minutes to make it act like I want. This miserable Carter, this horrid abomination has proven my undoing. After my standard, full cleaning, polish and new paint. a parts kit and new packing procured at murderous expense from IH ($60+ in parts), and a few hours work I thought I had succeeded, until, that is,. we bolted it back up. My customary farmall carb rebuilds always fire on the first turn, no...it just started pouring gas all over the barn floor. Several times now I've had it apart, including seven attempts just today.

Finally I have come to the conclusion that the carb itsself, is warped. I believe the float is stuck in either the up, or down position depending on how I have it assembled.

Anticlimaticly, I failed to fix the problem, and I'm off to the junkyard to find a Zenith.

Wagon ho....

Every farm hay wagon. Even if it never again see hay, you just have to have one.

In the begining, my grand plan had me and my sweetheart getting married on the future hay wagon at some future plow day. But my lack of a stable career and a bad bout with depression drove me to let her go. We had it all planned out, but sadly(EDIT: Best decision I ever made) I let things come between us and I once again face the world alone.

I still kept searching for my future hay wagon more out of the need to keep pushing on with something positive. Yesterday, I answered a craigslist ad, a day late to get a sickle mower for $25, but I did get this old running gear for $50. It was broken in two on the connecting bar, I made a splice with some steel stock and she's as strong as new.

Wish I could fix my heart as easily, thats all from the farm today.

Homebrew archeology

Today was a strange one, after a run to the tire dealer to have some work done, Me, my younger brother and our Mom went out to set floor joists for the new storage loft. There was plenty to be done, the loft work, some adjustments on the new tractor, and finally planting a Macintosh Apple tree I picked up on sale this morning in the new orchard I'm setting up. I'm a firm believer in heirloom preservation, but that kind of fell apart this spring as time and budget came into play, so I picked up some trees on sale at the home center. I did manage at least a Bartlett Pear and some decent apples. No Ohio farm is complete without a Bartlett Pear and a Macintosh apple.

Now on to the real strangeness, after the last nail of the day was driven home, and between the rolling thundershowers that were racing through the area today we put our spades to the soil. Very quickly we discovered again that my chosen location for the new orchard had at one point been the informal landfill for one or more sets of tenants that had lived on Windy Hill in the past. Last week my Brother and I thought we had found a buried Econoline truck, and various other artifacts have surfaced from pick axes to the dash panel of a '57 Chevrolet!

Todays find's amounted to broken 60's Pottery, and not the privy hole I was hopeful of, probably dumped sometime in the mid 80's, and a saltshaker, (intact). My Brother was getting into the spirit of the dig and our hole ended up quite some bit bigger than was required for my tree.

Just as a note, we don't call my brother captain Peps without good reason, he's the worlds greatest addict of Pepsi-cola, and the most devoted collector of Pepsi...um...stuff. Everything from bottles of every description to complete store displays fill his universe.

Which brings us back to our tree hole. About a foot down, and rather off to the side from where I wanted the tree, I found what I thought to be part of a glass bottle. As we uncovered more of it, we quickly discovered that it was indeed, a late glass Pepsi bottle of the 1980's and amazingly, completely intact, label and all. All due care was taken in uncovering this discarded relic so my bro could add it to his collection. I was surprised, he was thrilled, and finally, the tree was planted.

Bringing home the Farmall.

After getting the old place in shape, and having a couple of Garden Tractor plow days. The urge to find a "Real" farm tractor began to assert its self. There was never any question to what kind. I was baptized long ago in Harvester Red. Though I didn't grow up on a farm, It didn't take much for me to become a committed partisan in the agricultural brand war.

The search began casually, initially just watching the local paper, you know you are in a rural area when all the local papers have a special section for Farm machinery. But the search only bore real fruit one evening at work when I happened to be thumbing through an auto trader. It popped right out at me, '51 Farmall H, $950.

Going that next morning to see the H was like stepping into a Norman Rockwell print, the warm, red orange light of dawn, the cold, crisp November air, no more perfect setting could have been imagined. A few days later, a friend of mine helped me haul it home.

First think about, well pretty much anyone in my family is, we never do anything half way. All of us also share in the same love of, and fascination with history. So content I was not with a solitairy tractor sitting in the corner of the barn, no, Windy Hill must have a complete, and very period correct set of implements to go with it, well as soon as I figure out what those might be.

In the fall of '07

Soon after our first Farmall arrived, the '51 H . The roof is still rusty, the barn still hooved up from frost.

Windy Hill Farm is my dream, it's slowly becoming a reality, but not nearly as fast as I want it too.

In 1989, my Great Aunt passed to her reward, My Grandmother inherited 80 acres, (One average Ohio farm, traditionally). Kept the house rented out, until they burned it down.

In '04, my folks inherited half that farm, and my journey began.

At first, this all started because my Dad has an extra dose of Obcessive Compulsive Disorder. Somewhere in Pop's genetic memory the German farmer dna has become hyper activated, and of course, in it's finest example, Nature, along with decay, disorder and generally anything not perfectly neat must be ruthlessly hammered into obediance.

In due time, the weathered barns wore a fresh coat of paint, the roofs are once again gleaming silver, and most of the holes are patched. Soon after, new doors were fashioned, then the barnyard was cleaned up and mowed down close.

Then the real fun began....

AW

http://historynut.bravehost.com/Windy%20Hill%20/Windy%20Hill%20Farm..html

This space will feature my Farm blog, prepare for lot's of cool old iron and red barns...ect