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Memories of firsts
It seems like there are alot of "firsts" in a person's life that are worth remembering. In keeping with the site, I would love to read about your first trator experience...most of us have probably been driving them most of our lives. I'll start...
I remember getting to pull a hay wagon up to the barn for my dad when I was probably only around 9 or 10. I was driving a 1956 John Deere 50...I couldn't reach the pedals but had no problem due to the hand-clutch. That tractor has always been special to me because we used it alot but never very hard...meaning, I got to put many hours on it while growing-up. Pulling a hayrake, pulling a gravity with ear corn during harvest or fertilizer during planting, hay wagons, a sickle bar mower, an old steel wheeled grain drill, and many other daily chores. My grandfather purchased it new and now my uncle currently has it and has restored it. He still has the mounted culivator, trip bucket FEL, and a 2 bottom plow (although they only tried to plow with it once I believe.) I would really love to own it at some point. Somedays, I wish I could go back and have some of those experiences again...me, dad, and grandpa having great talks while puttin' around a field. Times sure have changed.
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Memories of firsts
I remember helping my dad bale hay ( probably got in the way more than helped ) using a David Brown, 6 cylinder gas tractor. This was the early 1970's. The bailer was a John Deere and had a terrible timing problem. Most of the bales were good but quite a few would get to about 6 feet long and then the shear bolt on the flywheel would break. I remember walking behind the same tractor as my dad plowed one of the hay fields, I would pick up small rocks and throw them on the pile between the fields. I also remember using a horse drawn sickle bar mower behind the David Brown. Dad drove and I sat on the mower. I was just barely big enough to lift the bar off the ground when he made the turns. I vaguely remember pushing a pedal and pulling a lever for something. I think it was a John Deere mower. My parents have some pictures of me as a toddler sitting on my dad's lap on an 8N with a center mounted sickle bar mower. Bet that made mowing hay a pleasure.
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Memories of firsts
In my case I was very young, certainly WAY too young, I'm told I was only about 6 or 7.
I'm told it went something like this.
I was playing on a big old AC that we had at the time. My mother told my father to get me off of it so I wouldn't hurt myself. Dad made some comment about it being no different than monkey bars at the playground. So Mom said something like 'what if he starts it', and Dad replied 'he can't, he would have to push down the clutch, then put both shifters in neutral, then push in the fuel shut off knob, give it fuel and hit the starter.'
Apparently I was better at listening and taking instructions than he thought.
Within a few moments I drove out the driveway past a porch full of relatives smiling and waving......
I didn't know the old fella could run that fast,  .
Best of luck.
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Memories of firsts
Murf, that sounds like the time I put my little brother on mom's bicycle and sent him down the driveway (steep hill). I was only 4 or 5 at the time. Never saw mom run that fast before.
First tractor experience was in college when I helped a friend who owned a small hobby farm. He baled 10 acres of pasture. I'd usually drive the tractor since his wife refused to (he'd throw rocks at her). No matter how hard I tried, I never could miss them woodchuck holes. So we'd stop and reload the bales on the wagon.
He also had an old JD with the big fly wheel that you had to use to start the engine. It took me several tries before got it to run as I never did remember which way the fuel valve should be turned.
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Memories of firsts
When I was about 7 or 8 my job was to work ground with a disk and then later with a spring tooth drag while my dad planted. I drove the IH 400. Naturally it didn't have power steering and the clutch had an awesome spring. I wasn't big enough to depress the clutch with my foot and couldn't steer it while sitting down. I would grab the steering wheel and pull myself forward to depress the clutch. When I wanted to release the clutch, I just let go of the steering wheel and slid back in the seat. The steering wheel shaft was horizontal, so I stood up to steer and used my entire body and hip to turn the steering wheel. So I never turned the wheel while stopping and starting and needed some room to accomplish this. My mother would stare out the kitchen window and watch everytime I turned around next to the ditch. The north ed of the farm bordered against a 15 ft. deep ditch.
About that age, I also drove the JD 55 combine. I couldn't figure out the vertical H shift pattern, so I would put the clutch in, Dad would put it in gear, he would run down the ladder and get to the truck when we drove down the lane back to the buildings. The lane had an electric fence on both sides giving me about 2 foot of clearance each side. When we got back to the barn, I'd hold the clutch in until dad got it out of gear. If you shut it off, it usually wouldn't start again without jumpers. It had a Hercules engine that was temperamental.
At about 10 years old, my job was to cultivate all the corn. My dad cultivated the sugar beets and beans. We each had IH super "C's". That worked out great. I got out of hoeing! Learned to drive straight and near objects at an early age.
When I was about 10-11, I got to drive the combine on the road while my dad followed in the truck from farm to farm. We had narrow roads and a wide header meaning that you had to drop the right side partially down the ditch when meeting cars. The last leg going toward home had that 15 ft. ditch. Once I got down too far with the right front and almost rolled it in, it kinda sucked me further down the ditch. I over corrected and with rear wheel steering the rear tires got more than half way down. That scared me bad that day!
When I was 14, got my farm drivers license allowing me to drive in the daylight hours between farms.
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Memories of firsts
What great memories you all have. Must really have had an impact for the present, with your love of tractors.
I recall as a kid helping out to get truck loads of ear and shell corn from area farmers. They were of the old breed, having been born 1900 or before. Many born and raised on their small family farm. What stories they had! And tough as nails. Many had fingers, limbs, etc. missing from mishaps. They had a real work ethic, and were self relient. It was always fun to see their old tractors, and hear them talk about them like it was one of their kids. Theirs very few of the oldtimers around anymore. Those farms have been sold off for housing, or merged with larger farms. I listen more closely to my father now, about the history of this area. Man, time flies.
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Memories of firsts
I was about 12 or so and spent a couple of weeks with the sis and b-in-l on the farm. I got to do some horse pasture brush hogging with what I thought at the time was the hugest tractor in the world (JD 4020 I think it was).
The thing I most remember was that the shifter on the right side of the steering wheel had the most complicated pattern I've ever seen. When I was done hogging it took me 5 minutes to get the shifter into "park" from the working gear. I thought it was really cool to have a gas pedal and a throttle lever! Also was my first diesel experience.
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Memories of firsts
I clearly remember coming out of the figure "S" banked turns at a decent speed. Flying over the second mogual and hitting some decent and deep ruts. Sat back on the seat and let her eat!! About 2.5 seconds later she started getting away from me and being the tough guy I was, decided to ride her out. Gave it all she had hoping to lift the front out and over the ruts. That worked fien till the back tire decided it wanted to see the grass on the next side of the next rut. Yes I remember the handle bar brace crossing my belly at about 45mph and the center shaft crossing my (Hmmm well use your imagination) and next thing I remember was trying to breath laying under a bush. When the world caught up to my speed I also remember the dudes I was riding with running up to me not knowing wether to laugh or help. (they were laughing so hard they couldnt help!!)
AHHHH yes I remember my first. First time over the handle bars on a RM125
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Yee ha! Been there, done that. Brokenarrow, might that have been an older rm with a quirky powerband. The ones with no low end grunt, but when it does catch, hold on. Loved looking at the faces of my buddies when they came back from a ride, on some of the old circa 70's bikes. They would have a s**t ass look on their face. Many times they would never get them out of first, just wheelie when the power band kicked in, landing back first, on the ground. I always demanded they wear a helmet because of that. Never could keep rear fenders and tail lights on for long.
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So that was the reason! I came home with a bent front end, handle bars that needed a large pipe and a 2x4 to fix. What was worse tha that was I happened to be limping up the dead end road we lived on, pushing my bike when a squad car pulled up behind me. I could tell just by the sound of its engine.(the police cars) I staightened out and tried my best to walk like it was no big deal. When I got up to my drive there was my old man waiting for me (he happened to be coming home on supper break) He made me lift my shirt. I had 2 ribs that were shot and I looked like a deer that was hiy by a car.
Needless to say, I was told to park the cycle for 2 weeks!!! Now you tell me this? Why would any dad make a kid park his cycle for 2 precious weeks of summer vacation especially when he had NO money involved in buying or fixing my bike? I could not get one till I earned the money for it (I worked in a resturant from age 13 Mom worked there and I got paid cash to bus tables) Mom and dad would not and never did spend money on any toys like that for us kids. To this day I could not forget that. Having kids now, I realized why he did what he did, it was for me to respect what I owned (and maybe so he would not have anouther medical bill from me since I had to go to the hospital 13 times by age 13 for stitches!!! ) The last time/year I went for stitches I was in the ER 3 times in 3 weeks. My old man wanted to kill me!) Fact was the last time that year I slit my ear half off and I tried to butterfly it and not say anything. You want to talk about getting my ass reamed for that, when I got to the hospital I was told that if I would of waited anouther hour I would of been in trouble cause of the time it took from the accident till getting in the ER.
Ahhh The good ole days!!!
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