By Douglas Pugh
A few quick facts about the camp tractor. First, it looks like a tractor. The exhaust pipe extends up through the engine cowling, a pipe that can be covered by a #303 can (16-17 oz.), these days commonly replaced with a 15-oz. can, or a #2 can (20 oz.), both of which are available without charge at any recycling location.
Either size provides sufficient cover to prevent rain, small birds, mice, and other diminutive rodents from gaining access to the engine’s interior, decamping there, and causing mischief.
The tractor tires look like tractor tires. They’re tall and narrow with self-cleaning lugs that dig their way effectively through swamp and field, an inappropriate progression on your front lawn or that of your neighbor.
The transmission shifts like a tractor’s transmission should — a determined, manual effort whose success is announced by an audible “clunk.”
Claimed augmentations are dispensed — with no backhoe, under-body scraper, bushwhacker, or mower. No leaf blower, wood chipper, or enclosed cab with cushioned seat, and cooled, conditioned air.
All are affectations that detract from the tractor’s primary function: the efficient transportation of camp members, their arms and belongings, and the subsequent trips carrying the results of successful hunting efforts.
She’s a 1938 Farmal “A.”
The boys bought her used 75 years ago. Her engine block was cracked, so they were able to buy her right. That crack? No problem. They would weld it shut as soon as they could find the time.
They never did.
The crack was internal, allowing antifreeze to leak into the lubrication system, where it mixed with oil before settling in the oil pan. Not a good situation.
It fell to the next generation of campers to fashion a cure. It was my friend, Dave, who fabricated the solution.
As noted, the crack in the engine block allowed the antifreeze from the cooling system to leak into the lubricating system, diminishing its effectiveness. This mixing occurred gradually while the tractor was running. But when the tractor was at rest, the oil/antifreeze mixture settled in the oil pan.
Antifreeze is heavier than oil, so the oil floated to the top and the antifreeze settled to the bottom of the pan.
That’s where the contamination release valve was located.
Before starting the tractor, the operator opened the release valve, allowing the antifreeze to drain out until clean oil was observed; at that point, the valve was closed, the oil level topped up, and the day’s work began.
The fact that the old Farmall still performed its duties after all these years is a testament not only to the efficiency of its manufacturer, the now-defunct International Harvester Corporation, but also to the effectiveness of its contamination-release valve.
It’s a valve that is demonstrably superior to the contamination-release valves serving the now-aged camp members, whose valves — after years of abuse and overuse — have lost their regularity, evolved leaks, and resulted in the dwindling of what was once a robust flow.
Doug Pugh is a retired judge from northern Michigan. He and his wife winter on Fripp Island and are pleased to be there … when they are. He can be reached at pughda@gmail.com.