621 W. Willow Street Cherokee, Iowa 51012
I wrote this little poem for the 'rust hunters.' I don't get out as much as I'd like to, as I have had a lot of sickness of late. So, I sit at my computer and dream of the time, Lord willing, I will go 'hunting' again. I had 37 gas engines when I had a heart attack in '86. I also had six old tractors, all restored, but I had to sell out as the doctors said I'll have more problems if I don't! I miss my old iron and the 'big hunt.' I have met so many good people with this hobby! People who don't do it just can't imagine the friendship that one can find!
I was going down the road one day, I happened to look out in a field of hay, Over by the fence I saw a pile of matter, I looked closer and saw it was a tractor. It was a mess but, I like them best. When I stopped to check it out, The farmer asked what it was all about. I told him I liked this kind of stuff, We looked at it and boy it was rough. The farmer said it was old and bad, It sat there so long, it looked so sad. We talked about it for awhile, Then he got a real big smile. When I asked him if it was for sale, He said, 'That mess I'd like to sale.' He said the deal sounded nice, When we settled on the price. He told me to come in the old barn, I saw a tractor that had no harm. We talked about that tractor too, I asked if he would sell it too. I said I'd like to have the pair, He said okay when the price was fair. When we took them home the next day, I had no trouble in any way. They both now shine and run so good, Just as I always thought they would!
PS. There is a tractor called a C.O.D., I think it was built in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the early Twenties or so. What does the C.O.D. stand for? I have a friend who has one of these.