The Fordson

It was in 1945, I think, that my father turned up one afternoon driving an ancient, rusted out, dented, Fordson tractor that he bought from a neighbor for a few hundred bucks. It was an unsightly piece of equipment and, in my opinion, should have been placed in the Smithsonian.

The tractor had outsized, spoked, steel rear wheels with metal lugs that evoked thoughts of WW1 German artillery pieces. It was powered (?) by a twenty horsepower, four cylinder, Ford engine  that sputtered, popped, backfired and generated great clouds of acrid black smoke. The little engine desperately needed an overhaul and required constant maintenance.

The tractor had no battery or starter, but used a magneto/coil ignition system that required hand cranking. It was hard to start in the summer, and next to impossible to start in the winter and could break your arm if the engined backfired and you weren’t wary. 

Once the engine got started, the only way to kill it was to retard the spark and wait for the engine to stall. The only way to brake it was to disengage the clutch and allow it to roll to a stop, a tricky expedient on hills. 

But the little tractor found a place in our hearts. My father used it to plow, pull stumps, power a circular saw and carry out a dozen useful tasks around our place. It was still in use when I left home, though my father had purchased a newer tractor. At last report the old Fordson was parked next to the barn, on light duty. 

My point, of course, is that old things aren't necessarily obsolete. As we get older we may not have the energy or the inclination to "go hard for God," but we can still be useful in our twilight years. 

So, if you're wondering what to do with yourself these days, just tell the Lord that you're willing to do whatever he asks you to do and put yourself at his disposal. Don’t worry; He'll find something useful for you to do.

David Roper

6.14.21