Needed: An Effective Guidance System—1

I’m sure I’ve told this story as a sermon illustration. Or as a children’s story. Or both. In fact, I may have done so more than once. And I may have even written about it. Anyway, here I go again. Because, when it comes to conveying an abstract concept, the best way may be to create a metaphor, a parable, some kind of analogy or comparison. In fact the Bible uses this method of teaching a lot. So . . . 

During my late teens, my father had a John Deere 730 diesel tractor. (Click here to see what the tractor looked like.) Unlike the tractors produced by most other tractor companies, from 1918 to 1960 almost all John Deere tractor engines had only two cylinders, horizontally opposed. Two whopping big, almost-deafening cylinders, I might add. 

Here’s how AI describes it: “The 730 Diesel featured an enormous 6.2-liter (380 cubic inch) engine crammed into just two cylinders. . . .  When one of those giant pistons fired, the exhaust blast was incredibly forceful.” And noisy! Somewhere between 90 to 95 decibels when pulling an implement through a field at full throttle! 

No wonder a lot of us Baby Boomers who spent our youth operating a John Deere tractor are now facing hearing loss! But I wasn’t thinking about hearing loss back then. To my way of thinking, the noise symbolized power. And power was addictive. So I loved working in any field with our John Deere 730 diesel.

The tractor had highly efficient power steering. It also had a steering-wheel spinner knob. Between the power steering and the spinner knob, I could with ease quickly turn the steering wheel with one hand, even when making extremely sharp turns. And to help make those sharp turns, tractors—unlike cars—have individual rear-wheel brakes. One for the right rear wheel; one for the left.

The story I’m telling happened while I was disking our farm’s southeast 40. (Our farm was made up of six 40-acre fields, with each field measuring a quarter of a mile by a quarter of a mile. The farm had three quarters of a mile of road frontage and stretched back half a mile from the road.) 

On the day being described, I would drive the tractor, pulling the disk, from one end of the southeast 40 to the other. When I got to the end of the field, I would throttle back, slowing the tractor, then hit the hydraulic control lever that raised the disk out of the ground, spin the steering wheel hard in the direction I wanted to turn, and push down hard on the brake for that side of the tractor.

Pushing on the brake meant that the rear wheel on that side would stop turning altogether, but the rear wheel on the other side would continue turning, ensuring that the tractor would indeed swing around and go in the direction the front wheels had been turned. The rear wheel that was being braked would become a fixed pivot point around which the tractor would do a perfect U-turn, ready to head back in the direction it had just come from. It gave new meaning to the expression “turn on a dime.” 

Once the turn was completed, all I had to do was use my steering-wheel spinner to instantly straighten the front wheels, let my foot off the brake, hit the hydraulic control lever to lower the disk back into the ground, and then hit the throttle to bring the tractor to full speed.

As the day progressed, my turning technique improved. I decided there was no reason I couldn’t execute the turnaround a little faster. Instead of throttling back for a leisurely turnaround, I throttled back only part way. It was a challenging maneuver to make the turn at a higher speed, but it wasn’t as difficult as I had at first envisioned. And as the hours passed, I kept throttling back less and less—until finally I was executing the turnaround at full speed. 

All I had to do was hit the hydraulic control lever to raise the disk out of the ground, spin the steering wheel to start the turn, stand on the appropriate brake to stop that wheel from turning, make the turn, then spin the steering wheel to stop the turn when the tractor was lined up for the return journey across the field, immediately let off the brake and hit the hydraulic control lever to lower the disk back into the ground. But I no longer had to hit the throttle lever—as I would have had to do in my earlier, wimpier tractor-driving style—because I had never slowed down to make the turn!

It was an impressive maneuver, even if I have to say so myself. I’m sure that the time saved meant that the field was prepped for planting a few minutes earlier than it would have been otherwise. And I was absolutely certain that very few people could pull off with precision the complicated task that I was executing every time I reached the end of the field. I titled this little essay “Needed: An Effective Guidance System.” And in all humility, I was demonstrating just that. 

Except . . .

In farming, the need for a log chain is about as likely to arise as the need for a hammer when doing building repairs. So we always kept a log chain lying on the tractor’s ample platform where our feet rested. There was no container or other restraint to keep it from sliding around on the platform. Because the platform was rather large and the chain was rather heavy, there was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t going anywhere.

But unbeknown to me, when I was making those impressive high-speed turns, the log chain was shifting and rearranging itself ever so slightly. Incrementally. Nothing dramatic—that is, until two or three links of the chain slipped over the edge of the tractor’s foot platform, where they wedged themselves between the platform and the left brake. 

The next time I came to the end of the field, I hit the hydraulic control lever to raise the disk. I spun the steering wheel for an extremely hard left turn. I slammed on the left brake—which was by far the most critical step in my high-speed turn sequence—but the brake wouldn’t go down, no matter how much I stood up to put more pressure on it. 

Even though the front wheels were fully turned, at high speeds, a 7,000-pound tractor pays a lot more attention to an appropriately engaged back brake than to the direction the front wheels happen to be pointing. So the tractor, ignoring all my good intentions and all my spontaneous imprecations continued its fast-paced journey toward the fence that separated our southeast 40 from our northeast 40. 

Even though it was only a couple of seconds before my mind cleared enough for me to turn my attention from a malfunctioning brake to a totally functioning clutch, the tractor and disk had passed fully into the northeast 40, before coming to a stop. The John Deere 730 diesel was enshrouded in what had been, only moments before, a perfect woven-wire fence. Now, five or six wooden fence posts, sheared off at ground level, were clinging to the totally distorted fencing wire, still trembling as if uncertain about what they were supposed to do next. It wasn’t a pretty picture.

I learned at least three things from that humiliating experience, which I’ll share with you right now, free of charge. 

First, an effective guidance system is indeed needed.

Second, even an effective guidance system can fail to function if outside factors are allowed to impair its effectiveness. 

Third, and perhaps even most deeply embedded in my memory: Repairing a badly damaged woven-wire fence is a lot more complicated and involves a lot more work than many might realize—particularly when it has to be done in the blazing sun of early summer. 

Tune in again next week when I’ll elaborate on those three lessons I learned, and more. But I’ll do it in a more preachy fashion. That is what you expect from a preacher, isn’t it? So I wouldn’t want to disappoint you! Go to my blog next week and look for “Needed: An Effective Guidance System—2.” 

Until then, drive responsibly. Whatever type of vehicle it is. And however many cylinders it has.