Fergus MacGregor: Why I’m incurably attached to my tractor
© Fergus MacGregor My dad has a beaten-up black Volvo that is older than I am. Its door handles play up, causing it to consistently fail its MOT and spares are now nearly impossible to find.
The automatic gearbox stops working on occasion and you get stuck in reverse or, worse, fourth when coming to a standstill. It’s completely impractical, yet he refuses to get rid of it.
I could never understand his attitude, as I’d always seen vehicles as purely there to do a job. I’d never got too attached to them.
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That was until my Fendt 724 had a problem that required it to go back to the depot for a week and my dealer kindly gave me a replacement, a new 618.
The tractor was lovely and had a very impressive turning circle, but I didn’t like it. I liked my tractor.
Not to say my tractor was necessarily better. If I was taking the 618 home as a new tractor I’d be overjoyed, apart from the 40hp it lacks compared to the 724.
My tractor has something about it. And it’s not just the model – it’s my specific one. I genuinely think it’s the best of them all.
When I see it in the yard, I think: “What a machine”. In my imagination, it’s got unlimited horsepower, goes faster than a Lamborghini (fancy a race Mr Clarkson?), and can pull anything.
So when it was gone for the week, I missed it.
I’m sure I will have other tractors and perhaps some of them won’t be Fendts. But it’s not the brand or the model or the age – it’s because this tractor is the first I can call mine.
It represents so much more than just a tool.
I now understand why my dad doesn’t want to get rid of his car, even though it really doesn’t work.
Fortunately my tractor has many years to go and, at some point long beyond that, perhaps my children will be wondering why it’s still parked in the shed, not starting and covered in pigeon-poo and dust.