Thresher’s Show
I forget sometimes what a city boy Klown is. For two weeks, I’ve talked about going to the Thresher’s show at the Dougherty Museum here in Longmont. We live in a rural-ish area, surrounded by farms and ranches and horses and cattle and corn. And I come from both city stock and country stock. I’ve been to tractor shows and thresher’s shows before. When I knew there was one nearby I knew I had to go.
Klown, on the other hand, had no idea what a thresher was. Or what a Thresher’s Show was, for that matter. I had to explain it to him. Three times. He was game to go, but didn’t really know what he was going to see. And once we got there, I don’t think he realized there were that many tractors in our county. All of them running.
The most interesting of the lot was a circa 1910’s diesel monster with huge iron wheels taller than me. The entire tractor, which was nothing but metal upon metal, probably weighed close to 6 tons, and stood 14 feet high. Three men were able to ride comfortably under it’s canopy. We watched them trying to start it. One cowboy in a plaid shirt and well-worn jeans was laying on the ground beneath it, fiddling with a giant wrench, while one Stetson-hatted cowboy was in in the cab, making adjustments. Then there was the big guy at the crank, his greasy baseball cap a match for his greasy t-shirt, easily standing 6 foot 8 inches. His meaty hands were on the crank, and his meaty arms gave the torque needed to turn the crank to fire up the old beast. We were told that it had not been run in 36 years. And it was having a difficult time starting.
After a few minutes, we moved on, and I walked around looking at orange Allis-Chalmers, red Farm-Alls, green and yellow John Deeres, shiny 50-year old International Harvesters, and gargantuan steam engine tractors by Cavery. Then there were the smaller diesels; the crate-sized engine that was running a ringer-washer machine, tea-pot sized engines running kids play cars, and every type of rototiller, Gravelly mower, and garden tractor you could think of. There was an ancient, rusty corn harvester, and balers, and every type of plow. There were cowboys of every age and shape and size, from little guys with shiny boots up to the weathered old men with stooped shoulders and their best straw cowboy hat over pale plaid shirts, stiff new jeans, and boots with years of mud caked on them. Every one of those cowboys walked with a kind of pride most people will never feel. These are the men whose hard work and early morning make it possible for the rest of us to eat.
We were a hundred yards from that diesel monster when it finally started, and there was no missing it. The ground shook, the air rumbled, and it coughed out a nice puff of black smoke. Soon, it was moving, making its way out of its parking place and coming down the road that wound through the hundreds of green, gold, orange, red, and yellow tractors. It dwarfed them all. We all stood in awe to watch it pass, and the three cowboys on board couldn’t have been more proud.
I am proud of my country roots. I feel bad that I didn’t teach my kids enough about those roots, even though they are pretty much city kids through and through. Hopefully there will still be thresher’s shows for them to see when they are my age.
The diesel tractor. It was huge.
Nothing runs like a Deere.
As American as Apple Pie.
Cavery steam tractor. We actually saw this one in motion, as well. Beautiful restoration.
Case steam tractor. It was one of three.
DoAll tractor. The back wheels look vicious!
Allis-Chalmers tractor. Interesting back wheels on this one too.
Tater-sized car!
