It’s sad to see what our society has cone too. Modern technology, although it’s a great convenience, brings on a new stream of cyber criminals. We even have to guard against foul play in our recreational pursuits.

I personally haven’t become a victim to a scammer yet. I have witnessed an intended snare a few times. If a person is careful, doing their research, they should come out safely unscathed.

I am old enough to remember when Craigslist was a very popular outlet for buying and selling. Those days came to a close when the odds of a scam out numbered the chances of a legitimate trade. Many have gravitated to Facebook Marketplace, but sadly the scams grow more everyday.

Early this year, an uncommon Gibson tractor became available on Marketplace. The Model D was under priced. The tractor was immaculately restored and worth far more than the asking price. With that potential, response to the listing should have been fast. My suspension was raised, noting the advertisement was over a week old.

I personally looked closer at the pictures. Clues can be discovered in the background as tells of legitimacy. There were other uncommon tractors in the background. This caused me to question why the tractor was priced so low. What was wrong with it?

Best offer was included in his ask. I made a lower reasonable offer, which the seller ignored. Either the seller was valuing the tractor from others, there was something wrong, or the sale was a scam. At any rate, it was the latter.

The inspiration for this article happened recently. Shaw Du-all tractors are not very common. Nice restorations are even rarer. I belong to a Facebook group of fans, and I dare say we have a good idea of where the nice ones are located and who owns them.

The scammer should have done more research before  making a foolish attempt. Of course, the scammer must have felt more intelligent and thought very little of the public’s thinking. Probably the proper mindset of a scammer.

Supposedly, he was located in Western Illinois and was finally tired of the care and maintenance. He only took the tractor to parades and fairs and he was ready to part with it. The little old lady driving to church on Sunday mentality.

The tractor was priced too low for what it was. The rareness and condition could command a much higher price. The pictures weren’t totally clear. The problem for the scammer was that the pictures were also familiar. I wasn’t the only one to recognize that.

There are several Shaw enthusiasts in Illinois. I don’t have the good fortune to know all of them, but I do have an idea where the tractors are. This particular pictured Du-all was not even in Illinois

Long story short, the scammer was instantly discovered and outed. The moral of the story…Scammers aren’t that good at thievery, but they still try.. As consumers, we all need to beware and extremely careful. What seems too good to be true generally isn’t!

Friday Morning ~ Most people who follow both Cindy Ladage and me would expect to hear about a trip from her. I’m sure she is somewhere amazing or preparing to embark.

Surprisingly, I’m the traveler, and Im in Nashville, TN. I am traveling with some friends or adopted family rather. It’s Friday morning, and I’m currently sitting on the front porch of my rented cabin.

So far I’ve discovered Nashville isn’t only the Country Music capital, It’s a great destination if one is a foodie. I can eat!

After our initial arrival, Wednesday, we dined in Paula Dean’s Kitchen. The food was excellent! Dinner was served family style all you can eat. No carry out with the exception of dessert.

No carry out? I completely understand why, but…. Is this rule strictly enforced? Here, hold my sweet tea, I got to try something!

Turns out there is no detector, or they do not police your bags as you leave.  I was successful slipping away with an il gotten chicken breast. Successful in a way, my fellow travelers have been given me  continued shame for my scientific curiosity.

Author’s note ~ I don’t recommend this experiment. If everyone began trying, the establishment WOULD need to search at the door. Let’s not steal the company profits.

Thanksgiving morning, we dinned at the Loveless Cafe. The theme was a fifties style. Rumor has it the stars would stop.now and again. There were pictures as proof.

The southern style food was slightly different from Georgia girl Paula. Of course, the fare was excellent. I had my first chicken and waffles served correctly and in the right region of the country. Egos and a chicken strip does not count. Not even close!

The Loveless Cafe is along the old main route between Memphis and Nashville. This route is lesser traveled now because of I-40. The Loveless is close to an exit, however. Don’t ask me where exactly it is, I wasn’t driving.

Okay so enough about the food!

I’m being guided, in a way. One of us spent six months living in Nashville. This helps! Destination, of interest, are easily found and alternative routes known. “I know a short cut!”

I have seen the Gaylord, Opry Mills mall, two need ladies shopping time, and we have cruised the downtown region. It would seem that most country stars make it big and buy a building.

Nashville has skyscrapers. They are impressive. On a sad note, I witnessed the aftermath of the bombing on 2nd Avenue. Even though the tragedy happened in 2020, the city is still cleaning up.

Later in the day ~  Today found us at the Nashville Farmer’s Market. The site has permanent roof shelters and a building. Everything one expects can be found. Of course, food, such as to be eaten there, but  produce is available. The typical arts and crafts were available. One young lady was weaving on an old time loom. Watching her brought back fond memories.

Another cool discovery was the Marathon factory site. One of the factory buildings has been restored for shopping, but the history of the factory remains. It’s a nice blend of historical equipment and shopping. Famed folks that host the show Ameren Pickers has a shop here

I’m with foodies, so we had to dine somewhere. Chicken must be the weekend theme. We made a stop at Haddie B’s Nashville Hot Chicken. Tennessee Chicken is warmer than Kentucky Fried. KFC may be more famous, but look out! Haddie can give Popeyes a run. Haddie wins….trust me.

I’m ashamed to admit, but it was my fault we didn’t go downtown and explore. It was just way too peoplely for me. I don’t do crowds well, and it was crowded.

The rest of the gang is going to the Grand Ole Opry tonight. Vince Gill is the headliner and they think Garth may sneak in for a surprise appearance. I hope they have that pleasure. I’m going to pass, though.

I’m in my rented cabin with plans of il gotten chicken for my supper. I have a glass of Jameson and Coke to sip, so I’m all set.

Tomorrow is my day of adventure. I’m on a mission to procure my latest acquisition. A 1948 Shaw Du-all model N5 has been in my possession since harvest. I’m also fortunate to be purchasing another Du-all while I’m here in TN. A model N8W this one is a little more rare because of the Wisconsin power.

More about that later. Have a great holiday weekend!

I have been a fan of a local water color artist for several years now. Kate Worman Becker creates amazingly wonderful paintings. She allowed me to commission a work that I’m planning as a Christmas gift. I plan to publish an article focusing on Kate in the near future.

Kate invited me into her current studio recently, when I was allowed my first viewing of Heritage the commissioned work. I must say, I could feel the creative energy the moment I entered her work space. That energy is the inspiration of this discussion.

Kate’s studio brought back fond memories of my mother’s sewing and quilting room. Olson’s room, the name that mom deemed her area, was where I first discovered creative energy.

A modern water color studio was nothing that I expected. The vision of a canvas on an easel, Kate working with brush in one hand a mixing board in the other. Her smock covered in drops of paint. That may be a romantic vision of a painter, but not the most practical.

  Kate’s easel is a drafting table. Water color runs, she works the painting in layers. If Kate worked in the “romantic” concept, her shoes would either be very colorful or the floor would. Again, I plan to share more about Kate in the future.

Doug Edwards is another painter, but his canvas is far different. Maybe it seems a very stretch, but in my thinking, Doug’s restoration shop is a artistic ground zero. It must be admitted that Doug turns out beauties that may even exceed factory specifications.

Maybe I’m just sensitive and more tuned, but I can feel the creative energy when I’m in Doug’s shop.

I mentioned my mom’s work space. “Olson’s Room” was above a oversized two car garage, making the area that large. There was a large long arm quilter, the 4′ × 16′ table the machine was mounted to dominated space. Mom had two sewing machines, a cutting table and shelves and steamer trunks to complete the feel.

Besides quilts and sewing, my mom dabbled in about anything cloth, she knitted, crocheted anything of the matter. Mom also made dolls and painted.

Some artists probably don’t need a fixed space to produce their art. My photography friends would need to go to their subjects. Musicians must go to the people to perform. Musicians probably have rooms where they go to practice, though.

Ryan King has a large room dominated with all his guitars. He can practice anywhere, but he probably  prefers there. I should ask him.

Even as an author, I have my own creative ground zero. I utilize my space more in novelist mode, though. My office has furniture that holds special meaning. That helps to inspire me. The most important tool beyond my computer is my big, too comfortable chair.

I’m more portable, per say, in journalist mode. My needed tools to report or blog is my smartphone. When I write in this discipline, I write anywhere and everywhere! This article is being composed as I sit behind the steering wheel of a semi. Don’t worry, I’m utilizing wasted time sitting in a grain line.

Unlike my best guess about Ryan King, I spoke to another journalist – Blogger. Cindy Ladage is more experienced and more successful. My  incorrect assumption was  that Cindy wrote more “portable”.

Surprisingly, even though Cindy does write wherever is convenient, she does have a favorite place to pen.

Cindy shared that her place of business is her kitchen. This is where her main computer is set up. It also gives her the convenience of looking out the window to view her cherished farm. Even a traveling lady needs the sights of her home.

I focused on a few local more known artists among us. The truth is, there are MANY more in the Antique Iron Mafia circle with wonderful artistic talents

I am thankful for our artists. Without them our world would hold no color

I’m privileged to have a quest writer for this article. Judy Snyder is also an author published by House of Honor. Her book Twisted Tales was released last June and can also be heard via Audible. I introduced Judy in a review of her book in a recent article on this blog. Now she tells of memories from her youth Take it away Judy, the article is yours ~ Rick

Back in the 60’s my dad was a machinist at International Harvester in Melrose Park, IL.  Every year the factory had this big open house/Christmas party for the employees and their families.

It would begin with a tour of this freakishly HUGE facility. I was just a little kid over excited by the idea we were going to see Santa, so this really didn’t make much of an impression on me, except everything seemed BIG, and Dad got to show us the area he worked which smelled of grease and oil. But then we got to the special showing area. To be honest, I don’t know if it was staged especially for us, or if it was always there, but there were all kinds of farming equipment on display, some of which we were permitted to climb and sit on.

Then we were all gathered into a big room that had a platform at the front. At the back of the platform you could see stacks and stacks of toys, with a few pens corralling balls and stuffed animals. In the center stood (gasp!) Santa’s chair! And off to either side were lit Christmas trees. Long buffet tables laden with food and drink lined the back wall, and in between were tables and chairs.

 Santa would arrive astride one of the smaller tractors IH built, waving at everyone. As he mounted the stage, I’m pretty sure our cheering would have rivaled any rock concert in volume – there were hundreds of us there (employment was around 20,000, but I think each sector had its own party).

 Each child, under 12, was given a gift and a filled mesh stocking from Santa when you saw him. These presents were not dime store trinkets. I remember two of the presents that I received distinctly, one was a doll that came with a layette, ‘magic’ bottle (it ’emptied’ when tilted then ‘refilled’ when upright) and a wicker bassinette. The other was a child’s tea set made of real china that even had its own tiny spoons. I also remember my older brothers getting a Spalding basketball and a Wilson football.

The mesh stockings were a real wonderment to me and my siblings. They were the only stockings we ever got – filled with dime store toys and that hard ‘Granny’ candy no respectable kid would eat, but for us they were treasure. Older kids (12 up) got a smaller mesh stocking filled with ‘better’ candies. (Remember candy cigarettes and Mary Janes?) 

During this, raffles were held for the adults. I don’t remember the prizes, except that my mom won a set of pots and pans one year, and my dad scored a set of IH coffee mugs paired with a high-end can of coffee once. IH tried really hard not to leave anyone out. If you left without something, it was your own fault.  I miss those days, of big corporations caring.

Thanks Judy for sharing. Here is a link for those interested in her book. It’s also available on Audible

This article may trigger some people, causing offense. If so, this report is based on my observations and I’m sharing my opinion. We all have freedom to agree and disagree. I also realize that this story can be viewed from different aspects.

I’m trying not to be an antique tractor puller. It’s a slippery slope not to, and I have several hands grabbing and pulling me down the hill. This is happy sarcasm by the way. The reason I “avoid” being a puller is my fear I’ll become passionately involved in yet another aspect. As far as tractors go, I’m pretty deeply invested now.

I have become acquainted with several tractor pulling clubs. Three in particular are promoted here on this blog and on Facebook Antique Iron Mafia and Media. I’m a proud supporter of two of them. One of them I personally invest time helping in any way I can. This article IS NOT directed at any of those three organizations. The clubs are administrated well, and I have observed their sense of fair play.

With that being said….

Doug and I traveled to a tractor pull in Green Valley, on Saturday. Three others came with us to watch Doug on the track. Doug had never pulled with this group. He registered in for two weight classes. He actually signed up to compete in lighter classes than he normally competes in.

There was no scale so they had to take Doug’s word that his weight was correct. If there has been scales, Doug would have provided proof. There was also a speed limit. Again Doug agreed to that.

Doug’s Oliver was the first pull of the day. Every participant had two pulls per class. Doug’s first attempt was a full pull. He had a speed warning which he immediately slowed down. The tractor and track conditions were good. Anyone that knew the tractor could tell he wasn’t running full throttle.

Doug won that weight class, he went to put more weight on, and I signed him up to pull in his normal weight class. They gladly accepted the hook fee.

I was watching the competition when the guy that Doug had defeated walked up asking questions about Doug’s Oliver. I’m just a part of the pit crew. The guy complained that Doug’s tractor had been altered and didn’t believe his weight was correct for the class. I shrugged, if we were being called on it, let’s go weigh!

Evidently, he cried to the management. Doug pulled in his next class going the distance to win, but wasn’t determined to be the winner. He also didn’t get the second pull like the other tractors. Two pulls per class, if you recall.

They had decided to disqualify him. He would be allowed to pull in the final weight class, but wasn’t allowed to compete.

After some discussion, Doug was told that he had been disqualified for his hitch and cut tires. Funny, I saw three or four tractors that had the same hitch and tires. We’re they disqualified? All the tractor clubs I’ve been associated with do inspections to determine if the tractor can pull BEFORE the participant registers for the pull.

The truth came out in the wash. They simply didn’t like a stranger coming to compete and take any trophies. They didn’t want any “hot” tractors coming in and showing them up. Doug may have been warned on his speeding, he had addressed it everytime the warning horn blew.

They didn’t have a problem taking the hook fees! To their credit they refunded the one class that Doug didn’t pull in.

We left an hour after the pull had started. If Doug wasn’t allowed to compete, we decided there were better things to do. As far as Doug’s “hot” tractor, this club is lucky that he was the only one to come compete. If anyone else from our nick of the woods had gone, they would have REALLY been put to shame with their little league tractors.

I said before I see the other side of this. I don’t agree it’s right. The group should have done a preliminary inspection of ALL the tractors. They should have also advertised the rules they were going by. Doug wouldn’t have traveled if the tractor didn’t qualify.

My parting remark for the hosting group. I don’t recommend you travel south into our area. We are more competitive and we don’t need you wetting down our track with your tears! We have tractor pulls and don’t give participation trophies. Trophies go to the winners!

This is my opinion. It’s best that I’m not a part of the governing members that manage the pulling clubs. You’re probably welcome to participate locally, the group has sanctioned rules that are abided. They are transparent about the rules and don’t make them up just to suit them.

I took the time from normal day
To see the marker where you lay 
Paying homage to family and you

We weren't always close sometimes unkind
Looking back thoughts of you on my mind 
A father's love though hard is always true 

The time I lost when you were here
Cause me regret I shed a tear
My disdain I carry as due

As long as I live you're not truly gone
Your memory in my heart, you live on 
Moving forward family legacy I bare through 

Just steps east in this hallowed ground 
Rests your father whom I'm also honor bound 
His memory I will carry willingly too

Readers, of my material, probably have come to notice that I don’t get to technical. There’s reasons for that. I will admit I’m not the most mechanically inclined. I know just enough to get myself into trouble.

My talent is to seek, con maybe is a better description, help from more reliable sources. I’m fortunate to have a vast network of friends in the know. I have welders, painters, small engine guys etc that are willing to help or maybe tolerate putting up with me. Some of my friends would rather remain unanimous. I appreciate everyone, none the less.

I came by my skill of building a network from watching my dad. He was either better at it, or didn’t much care who he manipulated. He never got his hands dirty. I even fell victim to working on stuff for him, he was that good.

I do have my skills. I’m a logistics guy. I can move anything safely and efficiently as possible. If we’re talking flatbed work. I’ll have the load so secure that a tornado won’t separate the load from the trailer.

I once hauled livestock on a flatbed trailer! True story. You’re probably thinking Now come on, that’s not going to work. We’ll to be honest, I’m really not supposed to talk about that load. It’s classified, all I’ll say is I tarped.

Now to demonstrate my vast skill with wrenching. My starting selinoid needed to be replaced on my 300. Once the part is in hand, that’s maybe a 20 to 30 minute job. For a normal person, mind you.

The selinoid is mounted right on top of the starter, easy to get to. I started in, part in hand, tool box open..Here we go!

First thing I noticed, There are no nuts to tighten on the studs to hold the wiring in place. No problem, I’m close to town. I load myself back in the truck selinoid in hand and head to the parts supply shop.

The parts man is super friendly. Most locals know NAPA Don. When it was my turn at the counter, I sheepishly showed him what I needed. He gave me a curious eye, but of course helped me out. I admitted this may not have been a problem had I bought the part from him.

So now I’m back to the tractor. Attempt two! Safety would call for the first step to take a cable off the battery and break the circuit. Who has time for that bother? I’ll just be careful. Which I was. I carefully removed the old part, replaced everything.. all was going great. I even had everything tightened, almost.

I was down to the very last connection. I barely put any pressure on the wrench. The selinoid shattered! I’m talking a jigsaw puzzle would be less of a challenge to peice together.

Remember the safety point? Some contacts were made that were harmless other than making me jump. Sparks can be startling. I know, I know! There wouldn’t have been any, had I not skipped that step.

So I’m about an hour in now and a little flummoxed. The parts, from the broken selinoid, got stuffed back into the box it came in. Guess what I found? You’d be right if you guessed the nuts I went to town for.

I looked at my watch and realized I still had time to get to the implement dealer before they closed for the day. I raced back into town.

The first person behind the parts counter I dealt with was a young man. His eyes widened to saucers in question, when I told him the make and model. I get that, a 55 was alot before his time. His computer mouse worked furiously on the counter, before he called in help. I felt a little better when an older counter man got involved. He tried with a little more success, to discover they discontinued carrying the part.

I stepped out of the implement dealship a little dejected, but not totally discouraged. I had another option, besides ordering another one, and waiting for it in the mail. The other choice was going to be embarrassing, but NAPA Don has dealt with me before.

He looked up and a knowing smile came on his face when I entered the store. He didn’t have to say a word, I already felt a little stupid. He of course had the part. It was better for my application anyway. I have no issue with my other part supplier and will continue doing business with them.

Okay, back to the tractor and attempt 3. Three? Yah it’s three…. This time all went right. I snugged down the last nut and all was well again, with the 300. The 20 minute job, only took me a little more than 3 hours.

My Super C has an issue and I’m planning to upgrade to a 12 volt system from 6 volt. I plan on doing that job myself too. I asked Doug Edwards about it. He said a normal person can do that job in a quick afternoon. Did I mention I don’t do anything normal?

There is a Peanuts charter, drawn by Chuck Shultz, Linus Van Pelt. He was known for a quirky need to carry his security blanket. I must have that same quirk in a different form. I don’t carry a blanket pressed to my right ear, but I do have a blanket. In fact, I have six!

This article is going to be show and tell, in some sense. It will be more of a showcase of a very talented artist. I’m a little ashamed of myself for not sharing this tribute sooner. The word smithing to tell this still comes emotionally hard, even after eight years.

My mom Bonnie Jennings was my major artistic influence. I grew up watching her sewing, knitting, crocheting, pretty much anything in that creative form. Mom wasn’t known to always color within the lines though. She ventured off into making Santa Claus dolls, that progressed into other dolls. She eventually acquired a long arm quilter ( overgrown sewing machine in men’s terms)

Mom’s last sewing room was a loft over a oversized 2.5 car garage. There was plenty of room in that creative space. The room was deemed Olson’s room, the long arm quilter had a name. The room held the long arm, which dominated a good amount of space. The table for the machine was 16 feet long and 4 feet wide.

There was also a couple sewing machines, a cutting table, a desk, racks of material, several steamer trunks, and a comfortable seating area. Most defined was also the electric feeling of creativity in the air, from the moment through the door. It was an inspiring place, where many talents blossomed.

I was one of the few males tolerated in the space. Mom always told me it didn’t have everything to do with being her son, to be in her somewhat secret club. I drove a pickup and knew how to keep my mouth shut. I had involvement in a few conspiracies, sneaking home large objects. I kept silent. Mom had a thing for steamer trunks and I didn’t want to end up in one!

This first quilt is called Wild Flowers. It has been on my bed ever since completion in 2011. It’s a little distressed now, but it’s where it was created to be.

This one is a turning twenty design. I have no idea what that term means. This is a good one to see the stitching detail on the back.

This originally was on my bed before I got Wildflowers. It now does duty making my guest room more comfortable

Mom would travel to quilt retreats and she belonged to a local guild. I’m not real sure what went on beyond sharing enthusiasm and ideas. All I remember was she’d come back recharged and full of new creative ideas. She always had more than one project going on.

This quilt is another one of my favorites. I like the color and theme, our family were avid SCUBA divers and that may be my reasoning to like it so much

The next one is always handy draped on my couch. The fact the colors go well with my furniture was a happy accident. The wall hanging I’ll display next demonstrates how well things come together in my living room.

Wall hangings were another demonstration of mom’s artistic expression. The first one compliments Wild Flowers. The other one I have gives impression of a imagined window

One of the blankets I have still travels many miles. Of course there is one near by while I’m at work! This blanket almost didn’t come about. In 2010, when I was assigned my very first new semi tractor, mom decided a bunk blanket was in order to celebrate. The blanket was started, before she became sick from cancer.

My first wife was responsible for the monumental task of closing out Olson’s room after mom passed. Loosing mom was hard enough, a bunk blanket was that last concern on my mind. My ex got in contact with me out of the blue and we got together. I was driving my second new truck at the time.

I was presented with the blanket completed. She had taken the extra time to finish the project without my knowledge. This blanket is special because of the fact two women that were important in my life worked on it.

The blanket is in my third new truck now. Mom may not be around, but her memory always will be.

On a pleasant spring morning, in April of 2014, mom’s ashes were scattered. I created the following poem during the week before hand. I published it to Facebook on the day mom’s remains were laid to rest.

After the sunset

The sunset has past
leaving ashes and dust
from the start, nothing will last
Strong iron eventually shall rust

Your life was an interesting one
that touched many a heart
Creating far more than a daughter and son
your legacies never will part

today, we cast your remains to be free
Well knowing your love shall endure
the beauty of your art, left to see
Is the sign you left us to ensure

You rest on hallowed ground
a secret known by only one other and me
But your memories will abound
take root, to always be