“I know.”
Douglas smiled.
“We've got an 8100 in the class after yours.”
Ethan looked toward the green tractor.
The same model.
The same machine that had carried the $42,000 price tag.
Douglas nodded.
“You'll see what a real tractor can do.”
Ethan didn't answer.
He climbed into Old Harold.
Two Feet
The announcer called Ethan's name.
Old Harold rolled toward the starting line.
The crowd watched.
Some knew the story.
Others had simply come to see the strange homemade tractor.
The sled was connected.
Ethan checked the gauges.
Oil pressure.
Temperature.
Fuel.
Everything looked normal.
The flag dropped.
Ethan eased out the clutch.
Old Harold moved.
Fifty feet.
One hundred.
One hundred fifty.
The sled's weight box moved forward.
Resistance increased.
The engine roared.
Black smoke rose into the sky.
The tractor slowed.
But it kept moving.
Two hundred feet.
Two hundred seven.
Two hundred ten.
The previous leader had stopped at 212 feet.
Old Harold reached 212.
Then kept going.
Two hundred thirteen.
Two hundred fourteen.
Two hundred fifteen.
The tires spun.
The sled stopped the tractor.
The official raised the red flag.
For one second, the fairgrounds were silent.
Then the announcer shouted:
“Two hundred fifteen feet!”
The crowd erupted.
Ryan was screaming from behind the fence.
Elaine was laughing.
Ethan simply sat in the cab.
Then the John Deere 8100 entered the track.
The salesman climbed inside.
The green tractor looked magnificent.
Clean.
Powerful.
Expensive.
The flag dropped.
The 8100 surged forward.
One hundred feet.
One hundred fifty.
Two hundred.
Two hundred ten.
The crowd leaned forward.
Then the rear tires spun.
The tractor stopped.
213 feet.
Two feet short.
Old Harold had won.
Ryan ran toward Ethan.
“You beat the 8100!”
Ethan laughed.
“By two feet.”
Ryan slapped the side of the tractor.
“Two feet is two feet!”
The Offer
After the competition, farmers surrounded Old Harold.
They examined the adapter plate.
The engine mounts.
The cooling system.
The hydraulic modifications.
Everyone wanted to know how Ethan had done it.
Ethan answered their questions.
Then Douglas Pierce approached.
“I'll admit it,” Douglas said. “It pulls well.”
“Thank you.”
Douglas looked at Old Harold.
“Our dealership might be interested in displaying it for a few days.”
Ethan remained silent.
“It would make a great local story,” Douglas continued. “Farmer ingenuity.”
The salesman nodded.
“It would bring people into the showroom.”
Ethan looked at the two men.
Months earlier, they had treated him as though he didn't belong on their property.
Now they wanted his tractor inside their showroom.
“No,” Ethan said.
Douglas looked surprised.
“We'd pay for transportation.”
“It drives.”
“We could discuss compensation.”
“I'm not interested.”
Douglas's expression tightened.
“It's only a display.”
Ethan placed one hand on Old Harold's faded hood.
“I built it to work.”
Douglas had no answer.
Ethan climbed into the cab.
Before starting the engine, he looked down at the dealership manager.
“You told me this was more machine than I needed.”
Douglas looked away.
Ethan turned the key.
Old Harold roared to life.
The crowd stepped back.
Ethan drove toward the exit.
What Really Mattered
It was after dark when Ethan reached the country road leading home.
Ryan followed in the pickup, carrying the small first-place trophy.
Old Harold's headlights illuminated the pavement.