This is one of the harder things I’ve written. I’ve been in denial for a while. I didn’t want to recognize that there’s a shift coming. A shift I saw coming. 

For over 30 years, I’ve been a part of this wonderful hobby and I’ve been blessed with a lot of opportunities and met so many interesting people. I call it Antique Tractor Life, because that’s what it is. It’s a lifestyle, integral to who I am, if you remove it, the other pieces of my life won’t hold together. A lot of people don’t understand that, and it’s hard to explain. Sure I have a lot of other interests and a few other hobbies. But there is no other hobby where I’ve met so many diverse people from so many different walks of life with a shared interest. 

Three unforgettable people I met were Harold Ottoway, Clarence Young and John Tysse. John Tysse was the last to leave us and for me the end of something I’m struggling to accept. 

Wichita, Kansas

My father first met Harold Ottaway in 1979. He went to purchase a pair of 15 horsepower flywheels for an International Harvester Engine. My father purchased an IHC 15 horsepower engine from John Tysse, but the flywheels were broke. John knew Harold had flywheels so he sent Dad to Kansas.

This trip to Kansas marked the beginning of a friendship that lasted for years. My father and our friend Rex (who became an unofficial brother), made a yearly trip in the Spring to see Harold and dig through his buildings. 

I’ve heard the stories and dreamt about it, but never saw the extent of it myself. Harold had amassed an impressive collection of steam engine, tractors, engine, antiques, hardware, and more parts than you can imagine. At first nothing was for sale and everything had to be traded, but later almost everything was for sale, at the right price. 

I must have been about 10 years old the first time I went. This was in the mid 1990s and by then Harold had parted with much of his collection. None of Harold’s buildings had electricity. The only light was from the skylights overhead or from the light coming from a big square body yellow flashlight. 

The video below is a tour inside Harold’s buildings in 2001.

For a kid, it was like a treasure hunt, weaving through paths in the semi-darkness with my father looking for parts we might need for a restoration project. The smell is something I can’t forget, it was a mix of Kansas dirty, old black grease, stale gas and thick slimy oil. Now when I go through our own buildings, sometimes I get a whiff of that smell, it takes me back and I need a moment. 

These trips always felt like an adventure. I would get to miss Friday from school and get picked up on the way in the old 1978 GMC crew cab truck. 

Harold usually had some kind of project he needed help with and we had to complete that task before looking around. We would arrive on a Friday and leave on a Sunday, so we had a pretty limited amount of time to visit and look around. I thought it was cool that Harold trusted us with his keys, so we could get in before Harold. This also gave us time to strategies about what we wanted to deal on and how many dollar bills we were willing to part with.  

For lunch we always went to the same place, Dairy Queen. Everyone knew him there, and he always ordered the same thing, I think it was coffee, fries and a hamburger, and sometimes we had a Dilly Bar. He would tell us stories about the early days of collecting and about his accolades when he owned and operated Joyland Amusement Park. 

I do remember my last time at Harold’s place. It was after his passing and we were one of the people who was able to purchase some of Harold’s last pieces. It was a strange feeling knowing you couldn’t go back and if you did, it would be nothing but an empty building. I was pretty sentimental and before I left, I filled a small glass jar with dirt from one of Harold’s buildings. I just found that jar the other day, and it brought back a lot of memories. 

Great Falls, Montana

My father met Clarence Young through John Tysse and the three of them made many trips into Canada to purchase engines and tractors. Then again I was about 10 years old the first time I traveled to Great Falls, Montana. 

We would stay with Clarence at his house. He and his wife Dean were great hosts. I remember one morning while waiting for breakfast, there was a pair of rattlesnake rattles sitting on the table. I asked what those were and he said he killed two rattlers yesterday. He stood up and left the room, when he returned he had a large mason jar, filled to the brim with rattlers.

Now rattlesnakes, was something you needed to worry about while looking around at Clarence’s. We were usually there in the summer when they were active, so you had to be pretty brave to lift that piece of tin to see what was underneath it. For a young kid, this was terrifying, but in all the years I never saw one. 

A memorable trip we had with Clarence was at Crosby in the winter. I don’t recall why we went up in the winter, but Clarence went with us on a day excursion into Canada. I remember it was freezing. That old 1978 GMC was full of holes and rattling plastic. The wind was blowing so much that we had to stuff clothes around the doors to keep it out. The floorboards were rusted out too, but the floor mats kept out most of the air and the heat produced from that big 454 motor helped keep the cab warm. 

One time we were there during harvest and I got to ride in the combine with Clarence while he harvested wheat. It was completely different then the flat fields in the midwest and was a great experience. 

I don’t remember the last time I was in Great Falls. Clarence passed away in 2021. Every now and then I think about those trips and wish I could go back there, have a visit, look around and avoid those rattlesnakes.

Crosby, North Dakota

My father met John in January 1979 when he traveled over 1,100 miles to look at an early International Harvester 15 horsepower engine. When he arrived, John handed him a shovel, to dig the engine out of a snowbank to get a look. 

I don’t recall the first time I went to Crosby, North Dakota. I’ve seen the photos and I guess I was about a year old. The first time I remember I was about 8 years old. This trip was something special. Not only was it time I could spend with my father, but it was a 1,100 mile adventure where we didn’t always know what we’d get into. Sure we had things planned out, but John usually gave us a new place to checkout. 

My father kept saying, “Be sure to enjoy every moment. You never know when this might be your last trip.” He was right and everytime we went, I kept that in mind. 

The last time I was in Crosby with my father was in 2019. John was organizing his parts in preparation for an auction. Things that had been grown up in weeds for decades were getting shifted around, onto pallets and organized in neat rows. There was something unsettling about it. The jungle of parts that I’ve known for decades, parts I climbed around on as a youth, were going to be gone. And nothing was going to replace it. 

The last time I was in Crosby was in 2021 at the Divide County Show. I was there to get photos and videos of show festivities and to get promotional content for John’s upcoming auctions. I didn’t know at the time, that would be my last time visiting with John and seeing everything from my memories. I tried to enjoy every moment knowing that might be the last.

Letting Go…But Not Forgetting

Now it’s almost the middle of 2025, and I’m now coming to the realization that I’ll never take another trip like those from my memories. I won’t be able to visit with John, look through his parts, visit with him late into the night while looking at postcards and literature. There’s still plenty of adventures ahead, projects to get excited about and plenty of wonderful people in a hobby I love. I’m looking forward to it all and hopefully inspire a new generation to continue on.

It’s hard to let go, but it’s part of life. I just thank God I’ve had all the opportunities to do and meet so many great people. I won’t forget any of them. I know this is the end of an era, but also the start of something else and I’m thankful to be a part of it. Rest in peace friends and thank you for the memories.

Dan Boomgarden 2025

Antique Tractor Life