On Saturday, I pulled out my Sony camera to check the batteries were OK. I'd had problems with the camera the last time I used it, with error messages appearing and then turning itself off. So today, I hoped that, somehow, in some way, the problem would be magically solved and the camera would work again. But no such luck. I turned it on and the messages reappeared, so I packed it back into its case and thrust it back into the dark depths of the coat cupboard. It dawned on me that for the first time in years I no longer had a camera, and with the expense of our upcoming English trip, I wasn't sure that I could replace it. We were going to the Shenandoah Valley Gas and Steam Show so I would have to use my trusty iPhone. The upside of this was that it would fit in my pocket and I wouldn't have a huge hunk of metal hanging from my neck, with the strap rubbing, so that would be a plus.
Elliott and I were meeting up with Emily and Richard at the show. I was looking forward to seeing them; it had been a while since we'd done anything together, thanks to COVID and my knee surgeries. I'd had to miss last year's show because of a surgery, which had upset me immensely, since my favorite tractor was headlining the event, the Minneapolis-Moline tractor, beautiful big machines in bright gold and red. This year's show was featuring the Oliver tractor, primarily green and yellow, the only green tractor I like. There's a dispute about which tractors are the best, green or red, in the same way that there's a battle between PC and Mac computers. I'm a red girl and my photos below show that, no John Deere tractors in my pictures unless a big ugly yellow wheel snuck into the corner of a shot that I couldn't crop out.
We made a beeline for the traction engines, my favorites, which were mostly parked under shady trees. It was in the mid 90s out here but in the shade it was considerably less. I looked about, hoping to see old friends and contacts in the steam community who may have come up from Somerset, VA, but couldn't see a single person that I knew. But some of the old engines were regulars here and it's always lovely to look over them again. I always check their water gauges if they're running, something that is occasionally overlooked by the operators in the commotion, but all the ones I looked at were filled up, thankfully.
Elliott and I trawled through the farm buildings where folk were selling old equipment and flea market items. I managed to find 4 rusty scythe blades for $10, which will be part of a welding project, and then we spent a few minutes dredging items on tables that were $2 each, again stuff to be used in welding projects. But a sign of the terrible current economy and inflation was that most of the items on sale were priced a lot higher than previous shows; I had got some excellent bargains here in previous years. I couldn't complain, everyone's just trying to make their way.
This engine was being used to plane logs into strips, which it was doing beautifully, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of the belts. They looked so loose that I was expecting one of them to fly off at any moment, and I kept well back. Thankfully it never happened.
There's always something that catches my eye at these events, and above is a showcase of a few of them. From the the sit on mower equipped with a saddle rather than its usual seat, to an old car, using a bourbon bottle for oil. All walks of life roamed around here, and I loved the rural garb. An Amish family were all dressed in the same material, and I later saw another Amish lady walking around barefoot, making me shudder. With all the oil, metal and wood splinters, and mud on the ground, I wouldn't consider anything but heavy boots. There were 2 'AC' units operated by the 'pop pop' engines, which I made a beeline for. Simply a fan run by steam, these things threw out really cold air, it was divine, although one of them doled out a hefty dose of oil fumes along with the cold air; I didn't linger by that one. The tiny steam engine on the ground caught my eye as we walked past, and I suddenly realized it was an old sewing machine. Clever!
I always look out for this gentleman, the director of the show, Kenny Pruitt. He's a prominent part of the parade, directing the engines and tractors as they make their way to the strip for the parade. I walked over to him as he climbed up onto his spotless antique Farmall and asked if I could take his photo. "Of course, but you'll break your camera" he replied. "Never!" I responded, "You're the star of the show!" and he beamed!
The parade lasted for ages, the traction engines, moving incredibly slowly up front, set the past and the many vintage tractors that came after trundled along behind, equally slowly. I sat on the wall next to Elliott in the blazing sun, and just relaxed, enjoying the heat, the breeze, the thundering engines and huge wheels that made the ground tremble, and the intoxicating aromas of wood, coal and oil burning. Everyone was smiling and friendly, and the drivers of these antiques were lapping up the attention they were receiving, from small kids to elderly folk, everybody loving these relics from the past. It was a wonderful part of the day, and I locked it away in my memory vault.
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