The
acquisition of the Farmall Cub into the family marked the beginning, in my
opinion, of our tractor-buying “addiction” that has yet to end. When Dad
bought the 460 in the mid 70’s, it brought our Farmall total to two, and it
would be almost 20 years until he bought his third Farmall. Once the third
tractor was purchased, tractors entered the family much more frequently.
It was December of 1993. Dad had just completed his latest Elks Club clothing delivery to the Veteran’s Hospital in Chillicothe, Ohio. On his way home up Route 104 south of Columbus, he spotted a Farmall Cub with a belly mower for sale along the roadside. Although he did not stop to look at it, he told me about it and said he wanted to go back and check it out. His reasoning of suddenly being interested in another tractor was that the last of his kids (Mike and I) would soon be out of the house, and Dad said he would need a riding mower when he assumed the grass-mowing duties.
We
set out to go look at this tractor a day or two later. Dad was apparently
serious about this tractor as he grabbed his checkbook on the way out the door. This was a very good day when I reflect back on it. It was a beautiful fall day,
I was on Christmas break from college with no where to be, and a father and son
headed out on an adventure to buy a Farmall—great memories.
Fair Parade practice: Andrea gets 'checked out' on operation of the Cub. It would be interesting to know how many kids across the country got their first tractor drive on the venerable IH Cub.
As we headed down Route 104, Dad had a rough idea of about how far down the road this Cub was sitting. Within moments, a nice-looking white-grilled Cub came into view, and we sped on past. “Was that it?” I asked. “That looked pretty good.” Dad replied that it was not the tractor he’d seen, and it had apparently been pushed out to the road since the day he’d passed through. A few miles later, we finally came to the one Dad saw and got out to examine it. It was a Lo-Boy, painted all red, was missing the headlights and had some oil leaks. It was very rough and obviously had a hard life. Still, Dad was interested in it because the price was right—1,500 bucks if I remember correctly. The owner happened to be home and stood with us out in the yard to answer Dad’s questions. There was something about this guy I didn’t like. He was shifty, a smooth talker, and had a weasely answer for everything—something you’d expect from a used car salesman. I recall the tractor not starting right away, and he had a weasely answer for that, too. After a while, Dad said that there was another Cub up the road that we were going to check out but that we would probably be back.
This other Cub, which was a ’57 Lo-Boy model, was in great condition. It had all the parts, had good paint, the factory Cub mower deck, and appeared well-cared for. The owner was much more personable and genuine, plus his homestead was pristine. You can tell much about a person from the condition of his home. This tractor was so much better than the previous one, but the big stumbling block was the price of $2,800 from which the guy would not budge. This scared Dad. He couldn’t bring himself to spend that kind of money for such a small tractor—perhaps as much money as he paid for both the H and 460 combined. We headed back down the road to the first Cub.
We had a big discussion en-route to the first tractor. I made my views clear: The first tractor was less money, but it was not all there and might be unreliable. We could fix it though. On the other hand, a little more money would get a tractor that was both ready to go and well-maintained. Dad still came back to the money issue.
Well, I began looking over this first Cub again while Dad and the slick-talking owner chatted. The more I looked at this tractor, the more I didn’t like it. My mind was made up as to what tractor to get, but I was not the one spending the money. I stood back and listened to Dad preparing to close the deal with this guy. Something just didn’t sit right with me, and at the risk of really angering Dad, I interrupted the conversation and pulled Dad to the side. I told him that I thought it would be a big mistake to buy this tractor and that this guy seemed like a thief to me. Well, I had spoken my mind and expected Dad to ignore me, as was typical. But to my amazement, he told the guy that there was a better tractor up the road, and we were going to get it instead!
We returned to the home of the ’57 Cub and closed the deal. We had a slight dilemma in that we had no trailer and thus no way to bring it home. No problem. This guy had a truck and trailer and agreed to haul it for us as part of the deal. We considered it very gracious on his part as it was at least a 40-mile trip one way. Can you beat that?
This tractor brought back many memories because it was identical to the one our grandfather, Pete, owned for mowing his place, which is where Joe now lives. As young punks, we all logged many hours mowing with Pete's Cub. The only difference was that Pete's was yellow. But the purr of the little 4-cylinder, the whine of the mower deck when it was in gear--all were quite familiar to me. It was akin to going back in time.
Our Cub has been a good little tractor. Oh, it has given us some electrical fits now and then, but it mowed a bunch of grass before it was replaced by the 130. Best of all, it is a great vehicle for the next generation to learn on.—Bill