A belated Father’s Day to remember

NEWTON, Wis. — The needle on the Jeep Grand Cherokee was pushing 75 as I rushed up I-43 in Eastern Wisconsin to get to the Newton Firefighters Park for the Lakeshore Two-Cylinder Antique Tractor Pull.
It had been quite a few years since I raced up that section of interstate, dating back to when I was working as a roofer during my summers off from college. I was home last weekend for my brother-in-law’s wedding — which was a good time and great to see the family once again.
Sunday, however, I relived part of my teenage years by flying up the interstate once again because I wanted to get to the pull as soon as I could. It was my only chance that weekend to see my folks and I had to shoot the breeze with Dad seeing Father’s Day was the weekend before.
As soon as I pulled in to the yard, I walked over to the scale where my father was weighing in tractors for the 5,700-pound stock class and measuring hitch heights to make sure they were between 18 and 20 inches. Before I could say hi, Dad hollered at me, “Get on your tractor. You’re up soon.”
Sure enough, the John Deere 60 — that tractor my late grandfather gave my dad and I all back at Christmas before he passed away — was standing in line ready to pull. I found out later on that Dad had planned on me pulling ever since I was going to be there that Sunday morning.
I jumped up on the steel seat of the Deere and waited my turn to hook up to the Eliminator, every once in a while turning around to listen to instructions from Dad about staying in first gear, stay in the middle of the track and how to slide up in the seat if the front end started lifting off the ground.
All I could think of was, “If I would have known I was pulling, I wouldn’t have worn my Badger red ‘Sconnie’ shirt to the pull. I would’ve worn my green Packer shirt instead; it matches the tractor better.” Trust me, I wasn’t the only person who thought that. I was wearing the wrong colors, but that was forgiven soon after.
My turn finally came up. I backed the tractor up to the Eliminator sled, had old man Harold hook the sled up to the clevis on the hitch of the tractor and walk away. I put the Deere in first gear, throttled down and pulled the chain tight, then threw the throttle all the way forward.
Now antique tractor pulls are not fast-moving affairs. In all honesty, it moves pretty slow — especially in first gear. Nonetheless, I was moving quick to do everything I could to help the tractor down the track. I pushed the throttle forward a few more times to make sure it was at the stops, turned the front wheels to keep myself out of the soft spot on the side of the dusty track and waited patiently for the front end to start lifting off the ground so I could slide forward in my seat and hope my 160-pound frame could help keep the 5,700-pound machine closer to the ground.
Finally the red flag flew in front of me, signaling my pull was over. It was pretty early in the class, but I thought the 60 had a good pull. Dad was all smiles after I pulled off the track and shut the tractor down.
His smiles only got bigger after it was announced that the 60 won the class, the first time in four years we won. It was the first time I won a tractor pull and holding up that trophy I guess was just what Dad wanted for Father’s Day. What made the day even better was when he got a trophy of his own — a second-place trophy — pulling the 720 a few classes later. Both trophies stand on top of the beer fridge in the garage back home, along with the other first-place trophy Dad won with the 60 in 2005.
Months after Dad lost his father and I lost my grandfather, this seemed like a fitting way to celebrate Father’s Day. It was one I will never forget.