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IH Iron
As We looked over this piece of old iron, we found something that I took to be a brake lever and after tracing the workings down, I found what must be the a brake under a rusted and pitted steel cover. Great, now how do I get it off? Didn’t take me long to figure that one out---you simply beat it off! Next challenge? The covers off, but now I see another steel thing with two screws in it and it looks to me that if I use a two prong puller it might come off. (Turned out it is actually the brake drum) so, I went down and bought a puller. Then a second and third (the money started going out, right from the first day!) After stripping the threads from the puller on three occasions, the fourth puller did the trick and the cover came off, along with the brake shoes and spring in pieces. (Dorothy had been buried in the blackberry slough for a full forty years and had been flooded over, up to the top of her oil pan on at least one occasion each year by the Willamette river) so !
nothing was without extreme rust and corrosion. After a week of driving out in the evenings with a new puller, the "thing" was ready to load. While Larry was at work on the following Saturday, I talked Tom into stealing his trailer and ford tractor (it pains me to admit that a ford towed my tractor) and Dorothy moved for the first time in forty years. Not under her own power mind you, but at least she moved.
We Arrived at my place and unloaded in the back pasture. I would have to work on her there as I had no shop to work in, just an old metal cow shed. This shed was to have been the new shop and office for my business, but with the arrival of this "thing" the plans changed and it has now become a most comfortable, enjoyable and exclusive tractor shop, much to the chagrin of my darling wife of thirty years. But, until I got power and cement to the shop, the work had to be done out in the open. Thank goodness it was summertime.
. Leonard and I started by power washing and disassembling what we could remove. We tried to save everything! I had no idea of what parts I could get or where to go to get them. Once again, Larry came to the rescue; he hooked me up with Red Power Magazine, Antique Power Magazine, and
Belt Pulley Magazine. They have all proved to be invaluable as well as enjoyable. One of the best tips that I can give to someone just starting out in this hobby is to get subscribed to one or all of these magazines. They are loaded with tips, information and the most important, classified ads. That is how I found Rice Equipment; supplier of a super parts catalog, and outstanding supplier of original and reproduction parts for the f-series farmall. The Parts manual from Rice equipment was without a doubt the best money I spent on this entire project. I can not recommend it highly enough; it allowed me to order only the correct parts and gave an exploded view of how this thing should go back together. (And come apart) I bought another parts manual, from another company, but the copy was poor, and it didn’t list all the parts, just some of them, giving me a bunch of information that was just confusing. (Leonard and my wife, both say that doesn't take much for me). An aut!
hentic reproduction parts Book has become my tractor bible, its’ importance can not be overstated.
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The available parts list that Rice Equipment sent gave me gave the first glimmer of hope that this project truly might be possible. Leonard and I had been trying to save everything. It took two weeks to just get the clutch/transmission coupling apart. After seeing the available parts list, I found that I could have cut the clutch joint screws off with a torch and ordered new. But, then again I didn’t know it at the time, and beyond that, I didn’t even own a cutting torch.
The summer of 97 was drawing to a close and the Oregon rain would shortly begin. I decided that we had to get cover over my baby. With Leonard's blessing (about the first time he’s ever agreed with me) we moved our attention to converting the old cow shed into a tractor shop. When we had the concrete poured and power into Dorothy’s new home I decided to let her move in.
With out any fanfare I told my teenage son that he would have the honors of steering. I gave him a pair of vise grips to attach to the steering shaft coming out of the bolster, told him to sit on the head studs sticking out of the engine and told Leonard to give her a push. Dog gone ole Leonard, this one time he did as I said and the tractor started to roll, down hill, faster and faster (I never dreamt she’d roll that freely) with Kris hanging on for dear life! As I said before, I get confused easily I was laughing so hard I could hardly take a picture, then it dawned on me; we had taken the brakes out. He was going down hill, gaining speed with a seasonal creek bottom at the end; I stopped laughing and started praying! I hoped the young man would have sense enough not to jump off, but just ride it out. The youth is a natural born equipment operator when it comes to steering a tractor with vise grips, while sitting on head bolts sticking out of a bare block. He rounded t!
he corner, maneuvered the tractor across the creek culvert and almost ran it into the shop like a pro. (I’m glad he didn’t make it that far though, as a few years ago, while learning to drive he’d knocked the barn door off, (from the inside) while learning to drive my truck, but that’s another story in itself
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