The “Ferguson System.” Those words were synonymous with one of the most reliable machines made in America.
Built in Detroit, found in fields, barns and forests everywhere, the Ferguson pulled plows, towed trailers, lugged logs.
It accomplished all that with a four-cylinder power plant, 120 no-nonsense cubic inches. It had a single-barrel, down-draft carburetor.
From 1948 through 1951 Ferguson manufactured this model tractor, the TO-20. In all, it produced 60,000 — some, no doubt, still in use.
But not this one. This old hauler has rested so long that a hardwood has grown between its front axle and rear wheel. It awaits a farmer who’s good with wrenches in a weedy lot in Dublin, 140 miles south of Atlanta.
Whoever owns the remains of this ’67 Ford Galaxie 500 Ranchero is so proud of it that he’s left his engine on view for passersby to admire. What is it, gearheads? A 289? 390? 428?
How long could you make it? How long did you want it? A hood with enough expanse to land an airplane? OK.
When those long cars broke down, a machine like this would come grinding along the two-lane, a hook and boom ready.
They were ubiquitous, these wheeled wonders. In the years after World War II, America’s highways teemed with long hoods and high-cab haulers. The nation was on the move, and these machines made that happen.
You are looking at two Chevys. On the left is a one-ton ’46 Chevy. Beside it is a ’48 Chevy Fleetside. They’re baking in the spring sun on the Peach Highway in Byron, 95 miles south of Atlanta. (Photos by Junkyard Correspondent Tim Saviello)
This is a 1929 Ford Model AA, a heavy hauler. From 1928-31, they were the behemoths of fthe road. This machine hides in the shadow of a junk shop in Marianna, Fla., 250 miles south of Atlanta.
It’s easy to miss, just down the street from the big intersection, where the blacktop crosses old railroad tracks.
It’s just as easy to ignore a fact: this engine wasn’t originally red. These 40-horse power plants were painted dull green.
And where is the top? The doors? For four years, this truck featured both.
Along a curve on a bendy Georgia highway, where the land lies like a crumpled blanket, rests a ’63 Ford Galaxie 500. Beside that is a ’53 Chevrolet Biscayne. Toccoa, 85 miles north of Atlanta.
One of the delights of driving country roads is rounding a curve and discovering something like this. Sylvia saw it first. “Look!” she said. I didn’t hesitate. The Toyota rolled to a quick stop. “Dodge,” I said. Boy, was I wrong.
This is a Federal, one of a line of medium- and heavy-weight haulers that debuted in 1910 in Detroit. For 49 years, Federals were commonplace on highways, at warehouses and on battlefields across the world. They were known as the “Big 6” trucks, with 6-cylinder powerplants that exceeded 500 cubic inches. If anything defined the industrial might of a nation, it was a machine like this.
Someone has done weird stuff to this truck. It has an odd addition on the back. The seat is a severely modified church pew. The after-market wheels barely fit in the wide fender wells. Whoever had a vision for this machine must have run out of money, energy, or both.
This appears to be a 1945, but that is a SWAG* It forces motorists to take a second look from its spot on a rural highway in Hammondville, Ala., 110 miles northwest of Atlanta.
On any Sunday, it sat outside a clapboard church, its engine clicking as it cooled while the preacher warmed to his message. It took newlyweds to Panama City. It ran off roads, rear-ended other cars and took grandma to the S&H Green Stamps store.
Granddaddy used it for fishing. Daddy used it to get his license. Big brother used it for dates that led to dead-end dirt roads.
Highway troopers pulled it over and let the driver go with a warning to drive straight home, son, and I damn-sure better not see you doing this again. It ran, stopped, ran again, stopped again. It was praised, cussed, discarded.
It is a 1950 Ford. Felton, Ga., 64 miles west of Atlanta.
It Was Running When I Parked It 