Tractor fixin'

How do you fix a GRAY Japanese Kubota tractor that has been abused, destroyed, ignored, hammered, wrecked, knocked around, bruised, shattered to the point that IF the right parts were found, would it actually work? Would that key turn and that starter roll IF all the pieces were in place? Would papa's tractor - now a sad pile of metal - be reborn to dig and haul and move?

Would the memories of riding in the driver's seat, feet dangling, while papa made sure the brake was mashed and the gears were changed, do the trick? Sitting on the laps of Titans have been known to change lives before. Will those memories propel us to finish what we've started?

And even though this rescued tractor has sat on that trailer for the more than a year, three of its four tires are flat, and for the life of us, that key still won't turn and that motor won't sing, can we do it? Will we do it? It won't be for lack of trying.

Even though papa is not around to help my guys reach the pedals or direct their movements, we've got a good notion that he's happy with this resurrection. After all, he loved this tractor - just a typical country song. Just like he loved his garden, his tools, his cigarettes, his truck, and a good steak. Above all, he loved his grandchildren.  Each still remembers "helping" him grill a steak on his old charcoal grill that sat in the driveway; he would chug his Budweiser, douse a little on the steak and if the kids were lucky, he'd carve off a tiny edge of meat and offer it to them. He wouldn't offer it to anyone else; just them. Ty can't have steak without thinking of his papa's offering and realizing that no steak will ever taste as good as that. 

So this tractor fixin' project has been in the works for well into two years now. As time allows, Len and Ty piddle and poke and search for the right parts, the right key, affordable replacement tires. I watch Ty and I know that bringing this tractor back to life is a way of keeping his papa close at hand. Len knows that getting this tractor in working order has nothing to do with it's ability to work, but everything to do with keeping his step-son's memory of his grandfather alive. That's enough reason for him.

I watch Ty wipe the years of time-stamped dirt from the tractor's once vibrant shell, knowing that it will never be as beautiful as it once was. For one reason, time has added layers that scrubbing just won't erase, and for the most important reason, his papa isn't around to make it shine.

So, if they get it running, great. If not, then great, too. It's home, and it's loved. Just like papa.