doublegunshop.com - home Forums General Discussion DoubleGun BBS @ doublegunshop.com Ot fO jO, Grand pappy & mammy thread.

Please stop bonding with them jOe.
The floor is already awash in urine.

O.M

True that, Francis.

I think it was '55.

SRH

I'm a bit more familiar with the 2 cylinder opposed design of the older John Deere's--love the hand lever clutch design and the rotary PTO drum ahead of it- and the trick I learned on my friend's 1940's B-- they had a compression relief valve set-up- you first locked the foot pedal brakes, made sure the clutch lever was all the way back- popped the valve- and with choke and throttle set, spun the big flywheel, with the hole bored into the edge for access- believe it rotated clockwise.

My friend told me that often, when plowing all day, they would leave the engine running at an idle- and top off the gas tank- as for some reason, restarting after running for a few hours was sometimes "an issue"-- RWTF

Every piece of old equipment and every old farmer had their own set of quirks Fox.

We had a Super C as well. Easy to crank as you say. Our Case was a bit harder and the big John Deere tractors could be a brute. In the Winter I went to the Super C first or Case if I needed a bit more tractor. But when you weigh 50-60 pounds you started them best you could. As I got older it was easy to do it the right way. And yes my father taught me the right, safe way. My older brothers taught me the easier, less safe way. Wonder if there was a message there?

Well, I think all you guys are a bunch of rednecks, bragging about your outdoor plumbing, water wells, and growing up eating bird guts. I grew up in a house about like what I have now, with indoor toilets, hot and cold water, telephones, electricity,and even TV as far back as I can remember. Maybe I'm just special...Geo

Thanks to all for the great stories. The only stories I have are more along the same vein as the one posted by buzz. Most don't bear repeating. My paternal Grandpa was a Sargent on the TPD with am explosive temper that saw duty during the Tulsa race riots of 1921. Grandma was a stoic woman that rarely ever smiled and had witnessed her fair share of sadness losing several of her nine children to disease and accidents. My maternal Grandpa was a louse that RUNNOFT with the likes of Mrs. Hogwallup leaving a wife and a shack full of kids to fend for themselves. I guess he was searching for answers. My maternal Grandma remarried a Italian immigrant that was a prince of guy and did Terrazzo work on most of the hospitals and buildings built in Tulsa during the oil boom. He was a kind, loving, hard working Christian man. The only "real" grandfather that I ever knew.

When are going to start wearing shoes? That silly "No shirt, no shoes, no service" has hindered my social development for sure. Ken's mentioning of Terrazzo flooring brought back memories of where I grew up the oldest of 10. Dad built the house with Terrazzo flooring for good reason. The only thing tougher would have been concrete, but that's pretty much what Terrazzo is--glorified concrete. Gil

Foxy;
When you were on the left side of the John Deere (Flywheel side) you rolled the flywheel forward C'Clockwise to crank it. The pulley for a flat belt drive was on the right end of the crankshaft & the clutch was built into the belt pulley. An experienced repairman could completely re-line a clutch on one of them in about 15 minutes, as nothing had to be taken apart except the clutch itself.

I loved that hand clutch. The old model D from 1928 on had a 6 3/4" bore with a 7" stroke for 501 cubic inches in the two cylinders. Without those compression release valves, it took a "MAN" to roll one of them over center to start it.

I never knew either of my grandfathers. My paternal grandfather died when my dad was 11, leaving behind a widow and three children. He'd worked in the cloth mills in south Jersey before he took ill and when he couldn't work anymore, the family moved to Illinois to live with his aunt. My maternal grandfather died when my mother was 20, having outlived two of his three children. He'd had a good job with the telephone company, a blessing during the Depression, but died before reaching pension age and my grandmother went to work in a department store. She lived with my parents from the time they married until she died in the late 1970s.

The only male ancestor other than my father I ever knew was my paternal great-grandfather. He was born in Scotland, went into the mills there at age 14 and emigrated to the U.S. at age 20, where he met and married my great-grandmother, whose family had emigrated from the north of England about the same time. He worked in the lace mills in Philadelphia until age 84, retiring only when the mill he was working in closed and moved to the Carolinas, leaving the employees without jobs or pension benefits (pre-ERISA). He lived to be 97 and my oldest son was born on what would have been his 110th birthday. We named him for Grandpop.

When my paternal grandfather died (1942), my paternal great-grandfather somehow gathered enough gas coupons to drive from Philadelphia to Evanston, IL and load my grandmother, my two aunts and my father into the car and drove them home and moved them in with him and my great-grandmother. What they could fit in the car was all they brought with them. Shortly after the war, my oldest aunt married a veteran who turned out to be a serial cheater and a drunk. My great-grandmother was dying of breast cancer and my grandmother had lost her sight to diabetes. My great-grandfather moved the aunt, uncle and their four kids in with him (in a three bedroom twin home in Philadelphia) and pretty much raised those four kids as well. He never complained or expected any praise, just thought it was what family did.

None of my family were ever hunters or shooters until my dad and mom bought an acre from a farmer outside of town and built a house. The farmer and his three sons-in-law were all living on the farm and were hunters. They got my father started. Dad only ever owned one shotgun (a Stevens Springfield 16 gauge sxs), one .22 (a Remington Model 33) and one center-fire rifle (a Winchester Model 94 .30-30). I have all of them now and they'll go to my oldest son in due course. He taught his three sons to shoot and hunt and got us into handloading. Two of us still do.

My dad has been gone almost 9 years now and I still miss him. My mom, who was 6-1/2 years older than he was, is still chugging along at 94. She lived in the family home until December of 2017.

I've been richly blessed by having family that loved me, encouraged me to get a good education and provided the means to do it. They were never rich in material things, but they were rich in Christian faith, love and generosity. I couldn't have asked for more from any of them.