It’s farm auction sale season again. Aside from being places where producers can do some serious buying and selling, these sales are also social events. Local farmers get together at them to talk to neighbours and see if they can pick up a bargain in the process. But in the last few years, the number of sales has been steadily declining. There just aren’t as many farmers anymore, hence fewer auctions.
As farms grow in size and sophistication, many of the sales that do take place involve a lot of late model, high capacity equipment. And buying any of it usually involves a pretty significant investment. It’s interesting to watch the high-value stuff sell in order to keep tabs on the demand for machinery, but sales that are a little out of the ordinary are the ones that really catch my attention. Especially those that provide an opportunity to look at some unusual equipment. And, of course, any sale that offers the chance to pick up a special machine or vehicle in need of restoration at a bargain (read affordable) price holds a special appeal.
A few weeks ago I casually looked at a sale bill hanging in a local gas station and it stopped me in my tracks. This sale, which was going to be held barely 20 kilometres away from home, included one of the rarest and most sought-after 60s-era tractors there is, a John Deere 8020. It seemed inconceivable. It’s the equivalent of finding a Picasso among a collection of department store wall art at a garage sale.
But the cat was out of the bag with this treasure. Even if the elderly farmer who owned it didn’t realize what he had, the auction company certainly did. And they did a pretty good job of getting the word out. On sale day the auctioneer surveyed the crowd, asking people where they were from. And collectors interested in the 8020, were there from as far away as Nebraska and Alberta.
Amazingly, this tractor and a couple of rare Cockshutt 1950 front-wheel assist tractors had still been putting in regular duty in the field, unlike the vast majority of other similar models that now do nothing more strenuous than march in parades and spend the rest of their time parked in high-value collections.
But on sale day, this 8020 was no museum piece. Although mechanically it was ready for the field, it was showing its age. The paint was faded and the tin a little rusty, but it was far from a beat-up hulk. And while I knew this thing was going to sell for an amount well out of my price range, I had to show up on sale day just to get a chance to say I’ve actually seen one in person. Of course I had my camera with me.
And I clearly wasn’t the only one there for the show. As I stood with camera in hand, at least half a dozen others elbowed up beside me to snap their own pictures.
Being the showpiece at this event, the 8020 was the last major machine to sell. The steadily-building crowd was transfixed as bidding began. Things started off slowly as the collectors coyly watched each other waiting to see who would make the first move. The asking bid dropped to $10,000 before one of them flinched and the rest waded into the fray. The price raced upward to $70,000 in mere seconds as local farmers looked at each other in astonishment. By the time the hammer fell, that number had grown to $90,000.
From the back of the crowd, a friend and I sipped our coffees, looked at each other, and the only thing either of us could think to say was, “Wow”. This is one event that is bound to become a “remember the day” topic of conversation in years to come. Where else can you find that kind of drama and entertainment with free admission? That’s why I like farm sales!
Scott
