Nothing fit perfectly.
Sometimes nothing fit at all.
But every problem had a solution.
At least, Ethan believed it did.
The First Failure
One evening, Ryan discovered a problem.
The fan blades were striking the radiator shroud whenever the engine shifted under load.
They removed the radiator.
Moved it forward two inches.
Rebuilt the supports.
Another night, the clutch refused to disengage.
Ethan lay beneath the tractor until almost midnight.
He adjusted the linkage one turn at a time.
Still nothing.
He adjusted it again.
Finally, the clutch released.
Ryan watched from above.
“You're going to kill yourself over this thing.”
Ethan wiped grease from his forehead.
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“No.”
Ryan laughed.
Their mother, Elaine, brought sandwiches into the shop.
She looked at the strange machine taking shape.
“Your father would either be proud or furious.”
Ryan smiled.
“Probably both.”
Elaine studied the tractor.
“Does it have a name?”
“No,” Ethan said.
“Your father named every machine.”
Ryan looked at the faded red hood.
“Maybe we'll name it when it starts.”
Elaine smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Then she walked back toward the house.
Ethan looked at the tractor.
For the first time, he wondered whether they were actually going to make it work.
Old Harold Comes Alive
Nine days after the project began, everything was ready.
Or at least, as ready as Ethan believed it could be.
Ryan stood beside the tractor with a fire extinguisher.
Ethan climbed into the cab.
“You really think that's necessary?”
“I think standing farther away is necessary.”
Ethan turned the key.
The starter engaged.
The engine turned.
Then stopped.
They checked the fuel system.
There was air in the lines.
They bled the system.
Ethan tried again.
Nothing.
He adjusted the fuel linkage.
One more attempt.
The engine coughed.
Smoke rolled from the exhaust.
Then the combine diesel roared to life.
The entire workshop shook.
Tools rattled on the walls.
Dust fell from the rafters.
Ryan stepped backward.
“That is the loudest thing we own.”
Ethan watched the gauges.
Oil pressure was good.
Temperature was stable.
No warning lights.
He increased the throttle slightly.
The engine responded.
Deep.
Steady.
Powerful.
Ethan pressed the clutch.
Shifted into first.
The tractor moved six inches.
Then stalled.
Ryan stared at him.
Ethan smiled.
“That's fixable.”
They adjusted the clutch.
Tried again.
This time, the tractor moved.
Slowly.
Then steadily.
It crossed the workshop floor.
Ethan drove it outside.
Elaine stood on the porch.
She watched the old red tractor roll into the sunlight.
“Does it run?”
Ethan smiled.
“It runs.”
Elaine looked at the tractor.
“Then call it Harold.”
Ryan laughed.
“Old Harold.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Dad would hate that.”
“That's why it's perfect.”
And that was how the old International received its new name.
Old Harold.
The Real Test
Running around the yard wasn't enough.
A tractor wasn't built to sit in a workshop.
It was built to work.
Ethan attached a ten-foot field cultivator.
Ryan stood beside the fence.
“If something breaks?”
“We fix it.”
“If it breaks badly?”
“We fix it.”
“You really believe that?”
Ethan smiled.
“It's what we do.”
He drove into the field.
The cultivator dropped into the soil.
The engine note deepened.
For a moment, Old Harold slowed.
Then the combine engine found its power.
The tractor moved forward.
Dark Nebraska soil rolled behind the cultivator.