WHEN MY HUSBAND SUGGESTED Saturday morning that we take in a large Allis-Chalmers auction at North Morristown, I balked.
Why would I want to stand in the middle of a field on a hot and humid summer day and watch an auctioneer sell old tractors and other farm equipment?
“It’s blog material,” Randy said.
He got me there and he knew it, so Saturday afternoon I relented and tagged along, camera bag in tow.
The auction had already been going 4 ½ hours when we arrived at collector Carl Krueger’s farm next to Trinity Lutheran Church and School, which is North Morristown. Randy parked our car among the rows and rows of pick-up trucks that stretched across the trampled alfalfa field. Up and over, on the other side of the hill, people swarmed like ants around the auctioneer’s truck and around the orange tractors and other farm equipment spread out in orderly rows.
Immediately, I saw the potential and soon parted ways with Randy, who was primarily interested in the tractors while I was primarily interested in the crowd. I had already spotted several photogenic characters. Not that I ignored the pumpkin orange tractors; they, too, offered ample photo ops.
But the bidders, the curious, intrigued me the most, mostly because many sported bright orange attire. If I had been on a highway, I would have thought we were in a construction zone.
I quickly determined that these Allis-Chalmers folks are pretty devoted to their brand. Otherwise, why would you willingly choose to dress like this? I’m no fashionista, but even I would need to think twice before donning bib overalls, a bright orange shirt and an equally bright cap. I saw plenty of all three at the auction.
Clearly, these folks love and respect old tractors, and I appreciate that. As I watched, men (the crowd was overwhelmingly male) settled onto the seats of Allis tractors, clasped their hands upon the steering wheels and drove away in their imaginations. Palms caressed tractor metal. Butts connected with tractor tires, offering a temporary resting place in the heat of the afternoon.
Randy was right. I had found sufficient blog material here on this hillside farm field on an August afternoon. But after 1 ½ hours of pursuing photos, I needed a break.
“Is my face all red?” I asked, knowing the answer before the words even tipped my tongue. When I get overheated, my face turns beet red. I sought out the shade of a pole shed, where volunteers from Trinity school were selling beverages, sandwiches, bars and other food. I dipped my hand into a beverage-cooling cattle tank and swiped refreshing water across my flushed skin. Since I didn’t have any money with me for bottled water or pop, I was tempted to slurp a handful of water too. But I figured that wouldn’t be appropriate although no one probably would have cared. I talked to a few people, snapped several images and aimed back toward the field to find my misplaced husband. He was still ogling the tractors.
“My dad had one like that,” he said, pointing to the 1950s Allis Chalmers WD, just one in the long orange line. Oops, that’s John Deere’s tag—the line, the long green line. I met a guy who dared to wear his John Deere t-shirt here in this oasis of orange. His girlfriend has an Allis-Chalmers, he explained, as if justifying his attire, even his presence.
I wanted to tell him: “I don’t think it really matters. I’m here. I’m not wearing orange and, uh, we don’t own a pick-up truck.”
WATCH FOR ADDITIONAL auction photos later this week on Minnesota Prairie Roots.
© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling