My Funny Little Tractor

By Staff

25 E. Larsen Fresno, California 93706 .

On a recent trip to the Umpaq Valley of North Dakota to see
family and friends, I was invited along on a family picnic to the
country. A lot of the younger people had their motorcycles and
ATV’s along and were playing on a nearby hill. Being so far
from town, this was the popular thing to do after chores or after
church on Sunday.

I happened to notice some strange tracks on the ground, much
like Caterpillar tracks, and when I asked, they told me of a
neighbor who had this antique tractor that they had tried out on
the slopes just for fun the week before. When I showed interest
they suggested we go get it; it was only twenty miles away. And, so
we did.

This was the strangest little tractor I’d ever seen, and I
was impressed with it right away. It was a single-track type
crawler with a two wheel driver’s cart and a steering wheel to
guide it. The boys invited the owner along for lunch, and we loaded
it up and headed back to the outing. They said it was a little slow
and cumbersome but a great little hill climber. They .warned me
about the crank not disengaging on startup. I’m glad they told
me as I might have broken an arm on it. You’ve got to let go
quickly!

Back at the picnic, as we finished our lunch I really had no
interest in eating. My mind was on nothing but the ‘Little
Fella’ we’d brought along. I expressed my interest, and as
the little tractor had no name tag for identification, I nicknamed
it ‘Greenie’ after its dull green paint job. The owner
corrected me and said that he thought it was a ‘Bea’ for he
had discerned a barely legible ‘John Bea’ on the inside of
one of the castings. The boys preferred ‘Greenie’ to
‘Bea’ and that’s what stuck for the rest of my stay in
the Umpaq Valley.

Greenie was a strange design alright, as if the designer had
tried to stay narrow and only built it with one track. But then he
had to widen out with the two wheels on the driver’s cart to
keep it from falling over! The boys were right; it was very hard to
steer because of its articulated design, but it would almost climb
a tree! Its Caterpillar type track had cleats that got a very good
bite and nothing would stop it except the truly perpendicular. Its
large front wheel (idler) could easily roll over any rough spot and
its smaller, rear drive sprocket assured plenty of power to the
track.

I was so fascinated that I must have climbed that hill a dozen
times. The boys laughed at me and called me ‘Greenie’ too,
after my little mechanical friend. While taking a break to get my
strength back (that steering wheel was a killer) I checked Greenie
out some more. The owner, Earl Knutson, told me that it had been in
his family since the Twenties and it had seldom been used for
anything but play, as it had no decent toolbar. And yes, he might
sell it if he knew its worth.

That night I lay in my bed, my mind going over in detail the
makeup of this little darling of the past. Its strange little
opposed, two cylinder engine was tucked right up close to the left
side of the front wheel; its crankshaft, on center with the wheel
hub itself, but it was a rear sprocket drive! The inventor had come
out of that neat little planetary gear box on the right side of the
big front idler wheel with a shaft drive to an offset gear
arrangement on the rear sprocket and it was just so darned cute I
could have died! It had only one speed and no reverse. A large
honeycombed radiator and fan hugged the left side of the engine and
I noticed that the fan had been snagged many times. I would have to
be careful of this hazard, too. Earl said that some of the engine
parts were from the Model T Ford. I wondered what it would cost
me.

The day before I was to fly home I went to see Earl again and we
agreed on a price (that would probably cost me my happy home). I
couldn’t back out now when the deal was already made. How I
would get it home? Rent a U-Haul? What about my plane fare? Would I
get that back? Would Rosie kill me if I lost that too? What to do?
My head was swimming and my stomach burned.

Then I got a flash. Since I’d always been plagued with
buyer’s remorse, I decided to put $50 down and come back with
my pickup and trailer if I still thought it was worth it after I
got home. Beside, who would care about a JOHN BEA in California?
The thing couldn’t even back up! After being home only two
days, I was on the road again with my pickup and trailer, my chains
and binders, an ice chest and a hunk of cash that could choke a
horse.

I arrived at Earl’s house just as he was just headed out the
driveway to Iowa to a cousin’s funeral. We quickly loaded the
little tractor on my tilt trailer and I headed for Umpaq Valley to
spend the night with a nephew. I am an inveterate insomniac and
Greenie wasn’t helping matters! I didn’t sleep a wink!

On the fourth day, somewhere in Nebraska, a spring hanger broke
on my trailer in the middle of the night and stranded me. I had
padlocks, and locked all the binders down while I went for help. A
tow truck came and dragged the whole affair on board for a ride to
town. As the driver unloaded, he told me a collector he knew might
want to see my little treasure. Greenie was really trying my
patience about now, and my old nemesis, buyer’s remorse, had
caught up to me on the Interstate. I was not only broken down in
the middle of now here, but more than a grand over budget. Think of
all the good things I could’ve bought with that money! My wife
Rosie had not been in favor from the beginning now, she would
surely kill me!

Just as I was looking around for a motel, the collector guy
showed up. He looked like Boss Hogg from TV in his western getup,
his fat belly and his cigar, and I could tell he wanted Greenie.
Here was a chance to get rid of that little monster and maybe make
a few bucks on the side. He eyed me suspiciously, wondering where
to start his offer, and I decided to play hard to get. Weakly, I
told him I had paid $5,000 for it and he offered six without
batting an eye! Wow! I was making 500% profit and I had not even
had to paint it! As I stood there with my eyes blinking and a frog
in my throat he made his last and final offer of $7,000 and said,
‘Just drop it right there; I’ll be back in an hour.’ He
then climbed into his 4×4 pickup and sped off, gravel flying. The
garage guy showed no emotion as he locked the place up with Greenie
inside. I think he probably worked for Boss Hogg.

Now, with no load on my trailer I didn’t need repairs. I
could just slip a chain around it with a binder and get on home. I
didn’t need a motel, either; I couldn’t sleep anyway! By
the time I was done chaining down, Boss Hogg was back with cold
cash in his hand. He didn’t tell me his name or even say
‘thank you.’ He left and so did I. I’d heard the garage
guy call him Mr. Wart or Warp, or something like that, but I had my
own nickname for him.

The rest of the trip was a blur and uneventful and I was back
home at the end of the sixth day and slept for two more. I
hadn’t even had the sense to take a camera along, but on my
adventure I had found and owned the object of my dreams. I had
learned to love it, have fun with it and hate it in a matter of a
few days but most of all I found the only true cure for the dreaded
buyer’s remorse: Profit!

  • Published on Jul 1, 1997
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