Borrowed Tractors and Five-Dollar Gardens

Of all of Daddy’s inventions the tree sprayer was his pride and joy. The chassis was from an old Willys car which he cut down with his acetylene torch, then fastened all the parts together with his arc welder. We were always warned not to look directly at the welding arc or the sparks, but we’d peek anyway. How could we resist? (Today, welding fumes have been associated with causing scleroderma.) He reconfigured the transmission to carry larger tires because I think he wanted to be sure it would have enough power to go up a hill with the sprayer tank full. A hundred-gallon drum was eventually replaced with a huge wooden spray tank that came from King’s Apple Orchard. Dad built the pump for it from parts. It made a horrible racket when the tractor and the sprayer were running at the same time. The whole thing sort of jumped around and vibrated. He wore a mask when he sprayed, but he almost always got drenched in either DDT or Malathion. I got drenched more than once, too, I know. He had hopes that all the neighbors would pay him to spray their orchards but he never got up the nerve to ask them. Otherwise, the sole purpose of the contraption was to spray our orchard of a dozen trees with the greatest of ease. Even Oscar Peterson, with his small commercial orchard, got along just fine with a hand-pumped sprayer. Daddy’s sprayer was way overkill for sure, but I know how much he loved building it. We also used it as a tractor to level the dirt driveway when we first graveled it. I remember Dale McFarland telling me he could have done it faster with a shovel. Dale just didn’t get it. Daddy swore his way was less work. This was arguable, because as I drove the tractor Daddy guided this huge two-handled metal scoop (that only a very strong man could have managed) attached with a chain behind the tractor, shouting out to go faster or slower or, “Stop, damn it!” at the top of his lungs. Of course, everything Daddy did drew a crowd. They came to see what he’d do next, or maybe they were just watching and waiting to see if he’d kill himself. We also dug the ditch behind the garage, where we dumped the used washing machine water, the same way. Occasionally, later on, when Dad worked in the experimental department at Deere’s, (where he invented at least four important devices for tandem plows, plow lifts, and harrows. And sorry, no royalties in those days, just a, “Gee, thanks, Casey.”) he’d bring home a tractor for a day or two in the spring to plow our truck garden. He’d go to work as usual, leaving the tractor at home. I (and maybe Bob) would take the tractor around and plow the neighbor’s gardens for five dollars. I am vague on this, but we must have never gotten caught, because, if we had, we would have surely been murdered. We had learned to drive the tractor and maneuver the plow when Bob and I planted a half-acre of popcorn on McFarland’s empty lot. I remember I plowed many other gardens that year (with Daddy supervising, of course) that my right biceps became huge from lifting the plow up at the end of the furrow runs (where you turned around), and lowering it again at the beginning of the next furrow row.