I once worked for a John Deere tractor dealership in Nampa, Idaho. It was my summer job and my after my high school classes job. I was assigned to paint old John Deere tractors taken as trade-ins on newer models. The old tractors were often greasy, the paint was faded, and most looked compl…
I once worked for a John Deere tractor dealership in Nampa, Idaho. It was my summer job and my after my high school classes job. I was assigned to paint old John Deere tractors taken as trade-ins on newer models. The old tractors were often greasy, the paint was faded, and most looked completely unloved. They also required special skills just to drive them into the paint booth, such as spinning a big, external flywheel with precise positioning and an agile technique to start them. They required a gentle but skillful use of the hand clutch lever to smoothly put them in motion, all while sitting on a tall iron seat and guiding them with a one position fits all steering wheel, which were kind of like soldiers getting new boots. “What size do I wear? 9 1/2, like everybody else.”
I took it as my vocation to renew those noble old machines. I scrubbed, straightened, sanded, masked, and using an old fashioned John Deere brand alkyd enamel paint that took forever to harden, I learned to spray a finish coat of paint that was mirror shiny. I also learned that the round stuff was painted yellow and the squarish stuff was painted green.
The only downside to the job was my hands often had a green/yellow tint that people noticed and commented on. “Your hands look like you just painted a John Deere tractor. Arrgh, aargh, aurgh!”
That was back in the days before we could unfriend people.
Oh Tara! You really should do this for a living.
I once worked for a John Deere tractor dealership in Nampa, Idaho. It was my summer job and my after my high school classes job. I was assigned to paint old John Deere tractors taken as trade-ins on newer models. The old tractors were often greasy, the paint was faded, and most looked completely unloved. They also required special skills just to drive them into the paint booth, such as spinning a big, external flywheel with precise positioning and an agile technique to start them. They required a gentle but skillful use of the hand clutch lever to smoothly put them in motion, all while sitting on a tall iron seat and guiding them with a one position fits all steering wheel, which were kind of like soldiers getting new boots. “What size do I wear? 9 1/2, like everybody else.”
I took it as my vocation to renew those noble old machines. I scrubbed, straightened, sanded, masked, and using an old fashioned John Deere brand alkyd enamel paint that took forever to harden, I learned to spray a finish coat of paint that was mirror shiny. I also learned that the round stuff was painted yellow and the squarish stuff was painted green.
The only downside to the job was my hands often had a green/yellow tint that people noticed and commented on. “Your hands look like you just painted a John Deere tractor. Arrgh, aargh, aurgh!”
That was back in the days before we could unfriend people.
I love that you were a tractor salesman!
Tara- you really should compile a book of these odd jobs. Holy Labor.
I agree! These responses are amazing.
Wow - I am learning so much from these comments! 🤣🤣
In a good way?
It’s a wholesome neighborhood!
Wholesome is a very good word.