the Walnut Diary

There we were, cruising along the shoulder of Highway 15, weekend traffic buzzing by, when the Massey’s engine faded and died. Burt managed to get his McCormick stopped before punting me into the traffic, but there we were, stalled. I could already hear the comments at lunch: “Nobody but Rod can foul up a three-tractor parade!”

I bailed off the tractor, seized the offending battery cable and twisted it to within an inch of its life. A touch to the starter and the thing was running again, so I gratefully remounted and rushed to catch up with Peter’s Deere.

Our leader, Peter Myers, seemed unaware of my nerve-jangling delay. Two minutes of full-throttle vibration and the Massey was back in position in the convoy and I cut back the throttle before the engine grenaded.

Burt and his grandson Rick followed in my dust, a bit slack-jawed at the burst of speed from the antique. Of course I guess in this crowd a 1947 isn’t all that old. Burt Mattice’s ride, a 1939 McCormick-Deering W30, and Peter’s 1951 Model B Deere are both so carefully groomed as to make my Masssey Harris 30 look like what it is, a trailer-puller invited to a tractor show to make the others look good.

What’s more, the Massey’s a cranky beast. A loud growl from the starter is its trademark scare tactic. Another favourite is to throw off a spark plug wire just when you need full power.

The Tired Iron Tour began when Peter finished work on Lloyd and Grant Stone’s massive old Minneapolis-Moline. Someone suggested a road trip around the township would be a fine way to introduce the western tractor to the hills of the Rideau Lakes. Word went out and various passers-by were drawn into the plan, but a family reunion took the Stones out of the tour. In the end Burt and his grandson Rick joined Peter and me on this first attempt. Grant showed up to see us off, and my pal Tony Izatt took charge of photography, deftly working his way through weekend traffic as he documented our passage.

I read somewhere that you can’t enjoy scenery while trail riding on a mountain bike because almost all of your attention is needed to control the bike. “But a tractor is plodding along down the shoulder of the highway,” you say. “There should be plenty of time to relax and enjoy the splendid autumn scenery.”

You haven’t driven between Peter Myers and Burt Mattice. Without instructions, I tried to position my tractor properly in the parade. Burt lagged way back. O.K., we leave long intervals along the highway. I did my best to fit in. But then Burt would come racing up behind me, setting off a concertina effect (not easy with a three-tractor convoy). I would speed up and then slow down to avoid collision with Peter, but then he would forge on ahead, and I had a hard time predicting where he would drive. I would check back, see Burt in the driving lane of the highway, look back ahead and there Peter would be on the shoulder. I would adjust and then Peter would be out on the lane as well, adhering to some system which made sense to the experienced, but was Greek to me.

Then they began to speed up. As illogical as it may seem, the tractors were surprisingly difficult to keep at a constant speed. My throttle boasts the “Dual Power” feature. That’s a hand throttle set up so that the cogs end at ¾ power in favour of a flat area on the throttle plate, and only provides full revolutions if I push it through this “gate” and onto the upper set of cogs, at which point the whole machine begins to feel rather like a seat on a jackhammer. Peter’s preferred speed nestled my throttle firmly on top of the gate where it was loathe to stay. The engine would run smoothly there for a couple of minutes, and then cut the power without warning. All I could do was hold the throttle in place. That left one hand for steering. The Massey is no Porsche in the steering department. It handles pretty well if I have one hand on either side of the wheel to pull in the direction I want it to go. Controlling the Massey’s directional urges with one-hand steering is less precise and a lot more tiring.

And this was all in the first half-hour. We made our way to the Gananoque turnoff by way of Jones’ Falls, joining our pit crew for lunch. On the return trip we toured Lyndhurst and enjoyed the golden maples of the Beverley hills.

It was a beautiful fall day. A pair of eagles courted high above our heads. Drivers were quite tolerant of our presence on Hwy 15, though more inclined to risky passes on the Lyndhurst road.

Next year we’ll have to invite more tractors along on the tour, design a set of instructions for driving in convoy, and perhaps reduce the cruising speed a little so that my poor Massey doesn’t have to give 110% to keep up.

http://picasaweb.google.com/rodcros/TiredIronTour#