Growing up with five older brothers, all of whom used to mess around with old tractors, I finally decided I was going to join the fold and buy my own tractor at 28 years old. I had just moved to a place on the west coast of Wales with 8 acres of land, and I was determined to start doing a bit of “old style” farming. The place didn’t warrant a big modern tractor, and, in any case, I had no interest in modern tractors. For me, it was a case of the older the better, so I began my search for my perfect tractor by buying a classic and vintage tractor magazine and seeing what was available.
I was instantly drawn to the quirky-looking antiques. My particular favourites were the tractors of the 1940s, especially those that were almost devoid of paint, where the years of work and weather had given the tractor a lovely worn patina. I remember showing my late father some of the for-sale adverts, saying “Look at this, dad!” like an over-excited child, and I recall my father bursting my bubble by rolling his eyes and explaining that tractors as old as the ones I was looking at would be highly temperamental, useless for powering a hay turner and difficult to find parts for.
It’s always disappointing when reality rears its ugly head and stands in the way of a lovely dream, but, in retrospect, my father was probably right. Much as I’ve never minded getting my hands dirty, I’m no mechanic and I did want to make small bales of hay on this land, so a tractor with power take off was going to be pretty much essential. This meant that, instead of buying an antique tractor, I needed to look at something dating from the 1960s. This was, after all, the period when tractors had started to become more user-friendly but were still small and simple. At the time, in the late 1990s, classic tractors were not hugely expensive. More recently, they have increased massively in value, so really, when I bought my 4-cylinder diesel Massey Ferguson 35 for £450, I got myself a bargain.
The tractor was in good condition; it started well and everything worked as it should. Since the tractor had been stored indoors, none of the tin work had rotted. This can be a big problem on tractors that’ve been left outdoors in our damp, maritime climate. Massey Ferguson 35s fitted with the 4-cylinder engine can be poor starters, but my particular tractor starts well. The poor reputation that they have for firing up means that they’re cheaper to buy than those MF 35 tractors that are fitted with the Perkins engine, but it seems that if you are lucky enough to find a 4-cylinder example like mine that starts easily, then you have yourself a relatively affordable, smooth-
Although the Massey Ferguson 35 wasn’t a particularly rare or ancient tractor, I was instantly smitten with it, and I found reasons to use it almost every day. I carried manure with it, I used it to haul trailer loads of washed-up seaweed from the beach to spread it on the land as fertiliser, and I drove it to the local shop whenever I needed any groceries.
I’d bought a rather worn, old chain harrow from a local character who was a part of the furniture and fittings in the local pub. When I asked him how much he wanted for the harrow, he said “3 pints of beer,” which he drank one after the other, barely coming up for air, while standing at the bar that evening.
I made a few repairs to the harrow, one of which was to attach some chains from each side of the bar at front of the harrow to hitch it onto the tractor, as whatever had been there before was missing. I’d been dragging it around the fields for a good while before something happened that made me realise just how quickly things can go wrong with tractors. I was harrowing the smallest of the three fields, when I must have turned rather more sharply in the corner than I’d done in the past. Then, in the blink of an eye, the harrow came flying up in the direction of my head and crashed into the anti-roll bar of the tractor, right at head height. I stopped immediately, of course, and was confused for a moment how this had happened, but it became clear that the chain that was linking the harrow to the tractor had caught on the tread of the rear wheel as I made the sharp turn. Had my tractor not been fitted with an anti-roll over device, the harrow would have whacked me straight in the head, and probably knocked me right off the side of the tractor and under the other back wheel. Closer inspection showed that the harrow had been flung upwards with such force that the bar at the front of the harrow had dented the anti-roll device. I made a sharp intake of breath as I felt the dent. Then, I went to get myself a cup of tea and pondered over all the silly ways in which this apparently harmless-looking tractor could kill me. It was really rather a sobering sort of day, and having learned something from it, I lengthened the chains that were attached to the harrow, and I made sure that, in future, my turns were a little more carefully. I also realised that anti-rollover devices are useful, even when working on flat fields.
Sticky Moments
Another rather silly error I made was to re-paint my tractor with a brush, thinking that it would be a pretty simple job. Had my tractor been painted the correct colour, I would have left it as it was, but when I bought it, the previous owner had hand painted it badly, and rather than being red, it was actually almost orange. This bothered me, so I went to the local Massey Ferguson dealership and bought a tin of red MF paint. “How difficult can this be?” I thought.
I gave the orange paint a quick rubdown and parked my tractor in the middle of the yard on a hot sunny summer’s day, ready to begin applying the red paint. It started well; the radio was on and I was as happy as a lark. I began by painting the seat and the dashboard panel, but very soon, little insects kept landing on the newly applied, sticky red paint. Attempts to remove these creatures left my fingers covered in red paint, and in the end, I elected to simply brush the insects in, hoping that a good vigorous brushing would mash them up and render their wings and limbs invisible. I knew then this wasn’t going to be a perfect paintjob, but I told myself not to mind too much, as in the end, a slightly lumpy red paintjob was surely going to look better than what was there before.
But then events took a turn for the worse. Suddenly, a breeze got up, and a whole load of dust and pieces of hay from the yard began to blow and land all over one side of the tractor, sticking to the newly applied paint. I couldn’t move the tractor because I’d rather stupidly painted the seat, so I just had to keep on going. In the end, the newly painted tractor looked ok from a distance, but on closer inspection it was obviously a pretty dire paintjob. I left the tractor like that for another decade before I had a mechanic friend rub it down and re-spray it.
Little Adventures
I had owned my tractor some six years when I decided that it was time to have an adventure with it. I had often thought of going “on vacation” with my tractor, taking cooking utensils, food and a tent with me, and hitting the open road, but I’d never quite got around to planning it.
In 2004, I was pregnant with my first child and thought that if I didn’t get on with having this adventure, then it was never going to happen. I knew that I would be engaged in childcare for several years, and that this was going to be my last chance for anything resembling freedom!
I set off to do a trip through Wales, and my only real plan was to avoid busy highways and that I would use detailed maps to seek out small lanes and dirt tracks. I packed the link box that my now late father had made with all manner of things: a tent, some cooking equipment, food, water, diesel, warm and waterproof clothing and, of course, my array of maps. I wasn’t going to telephone anyone, unless there was a problem, and, in any case, this was still the days before people were glued to their phones, so daily contact with the rest of the world was not expected.
I took six days and nights to zigzag my way through rural Wales, going roughly south to north. It turned out to be one of the most fun and empowering experiences I’ve ever had. The trip also re-affirmed my faith in human nature, because on several occasions during this trip, I experienced kindness from complete strangers, which is a wonderful thing.
On one occasion, I spotted a small diesel leak from a rather delicate-looking pipe. Although I had tools with me, I was rather wary of tightening up a connection and inadvertently breaking something, which would result in a catastrophic leak. Fate was on my side though, because about an hour after I had spotted the leak, a man in a farm pickup came up behind me on the lane I was driving on. I pulled over to let him pass, and he stopped to admire my tractor. I mentioned the leak that I’d spotted, and he said what a pity he didn’t have any tools with him, as he was an agricultural mechanic and would easily have been able to fix it. I was able to produce my set of spanners from the transport box, and the friendly stranger promptly adjusted the connection on the pipe, and away I went on my happy way. It just goes to show that it really is worth carrying tools, even if you aren’t 100% sure how to use them yourself!
Since that adventure driving around Wales, I’ve continued to use my little red tractor for all manner of work: haymaking, powering a log splitter, and for carrying trailer loads of aggregates, manure and firewood. I still use it to pop to the shop occasionally, as coming back up the big hill home gives it a good workout.
I’m pleased to say my son is now 16 and his legs are long enough to reach the pedals, so he’s able to enjoy driving my tractor, too. It’s a lovely thought to think that, one day, I’ll pass this tractor on to him. FC
Josephine Roberts lives on an old-fashioned smallholding in Snowdonia, North Wales, and has a passion for all things vintage. Email her at josiewales2021@aol.com
