Three years ago, we had some money. Way back then I got the bright idea that what I needed was a walk-behind tractor. I got over that pretty quick, but not before I dropped $1,300 on a nice looking rebuilt '75 model with an 1985 eight horse power Briggs & Stratton. Now, to say I am less than mechanically inclined is a major understatement. One of my main faults in life is that I'm dangerously optimistic, and seeing as the Gravely came with a binder full of manuals, I figured I could learn what I needed to know... Nope.
At first, having the Gravely was great. It came with a bunch of implements and with 240 to chose from, the thought of being a Gravely collector seemed fun. It was a brute of an 8hp engine. The little beast made some of the most beautiful raised beds I'd seen, and the the soil was perfect after just one working. It was a chore to use though. I'm 6'2" and was around 240 pounds at the time, and did well to keep it straight. It's was still fun to use though, and beat going to the gym. I use to hook up the sulky and brush cutter, and mow our 3-acre yard with childish glee.
The honeymoon was short-lived, however. By the time I had plowed our eleven 50 x 4-foot beds the forward/reverse lever starting going out. I tried as hard as I could to understand the manual, and was able to get everything lined out for short periods. As much as I tried, I was never able to get the thing working right and gave up for while.
That while ended when my family moved to Wild Heart Sheep Farm in Kellacey, Kentucky. We had a labor-for-rent agreement worked out with the farm owner. We new them from a few years back when we were all involved with a community group call Sustainable Morehead. Sustainable Morehead was formed out of a free recycling program I started with a good friend a couple years before, but that's a whole 'nother tale.
Wild Heart Farm is a 230-acre slice of heaven that sits on a peninsula of land between Blackwater creek and the Licking River in Morgan County. Morgan has the best grazing land in East Kentucky as far as I'm concerned. The Tepsicks, they own the farm, wanted to raise some Yukon potatoes and yellow onions. They didn't have a way to plow themselves, so I cast a weary eye to my Gravely. After some work, I was able to get it lined out. I had another bright idea to plant the potatoes in long narrow rows. I planted the onions in wider short beds. I could tell the soil was poor as soon I started, but learned pretty quick how bad it was. I also learned how bad that old Gravely could be.
I was working on my second row, when the Red Beast turned on me. It got stuck in reverse, and I got stuck between the handles. I couldn't move fast enough backward to get out from between them, and the Gravely pushed me 50 or 60 feet backwards. A split second before I was about to be pined against a light pole, I managed to get my hand on the ignition. The plow was still engaged and if I hadn't got the tractor turned off, it would have tore my legs up bad.
I pushed it back to the barn and let the chickens roost on it for a while. Meanwhile, I watched as the potatoes grew to about 12 inches, and died and the onions sets grew about three inches and quit. The soil, if you want to call it that, was so heavy in clay that I could roll a cylinder and bend it into a circle without making cracks. I've worked on a potter's wheel and I could have thrown a cylinder with this stuff. The ground was really dry when I plowed, and I didn't get a full grasp of the situation 'till it rained some. (I'll claim that pun) I just abandoned the whole thing. I essentially tried to grow potatoes in a clay ditch. The ground can grow nice pasture, but it's not going to be good for vegetables without some major mediation. The whole event was definitely not worth getting my legs mangled.
A month or so passed and the garden bug was eating me alive. There was a much better spot near the house that had been planted in corn the year before, and had a beautiful stand of white clover growing on it.I dug into the ground with a mattock to check the soil quality and it was much better. Still not great, but good enough. I eventually got stupid enough to give the Gravely another run. About 10 minutes in, the same thing happened. Only this time I tripped and fell between the handles. Out of some cat-like primordial reflex I managed to turn the key as I fell ,and the rotatory plow slowed to a stop as the wheels started to roll up over my legs. It sat in that spot for the next four months. I was done. It would have been my guts that time.
I would go up ever so often and start the Death Machine just to keep the fluids moving, and after the four months I decided to get it back to the barn. I new I would be fine as long as I was moving forward, so I pranked around enough to get it moving and parked it for the last time. I would have to either sell it or move before I tried to use it again.
We ended up moving down to Letcher County when my wife got a teaching job, so I muscled the Beast onto a borrowed trailer and hauled it down to our new home. I had used the battery to power an electric net hog fence, and wasn't about to take the risk anyway. We weren't down here long before I decided to sell the Gravely. I figured there was plenty of people out there who would be more than capable of getting the Gravely running right, and we couldn't use it were we're living anyway. It was either let it sit out and ruin, or pass it on to some who could appreciate it. I posted the Gravely to some Facebook buy, sell, trade groups with a full disclosure of the it's Christine-like personality. After turning down some low ball offers, I got one for $700. I was asking $1000, but at this point I just wanted it gone, so I agreed. The fellow that bought it was really nice and gave me an extra $50 for loading. That made me feel a lot better about the deal. I made sure he understood the problem and was pleased to learn he planned to part it out to use it in another Gravely.
The moral of this story is "Don't by a 40-year-old Gravely when you can get BCS!" Now that's a walk-behind. I can plow a field with one of those and only use one hand. The Second moral is"Don't plow period." It will eventual kill the soil, and if you're anything like me, it might just kill you....
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