I started this journey when my decision making involved watching CHiP’s on the black and white vs. playing with the Tonka Sky Crain outside under the Dogwood. I grew up watching the two elder statesmen in my life at the time J.M. (Granddad) and George (Papaw) create, work and build in their shops.  

During summer visits I remember hearing the mechanical whine of the machine as it punctured vinyl, leather and cloth below the house in Athens, a house Papaw built by hand after WWII.

As he waited for customers to return to pick up their goods we’d head out and shoot an old 22 Cal. If he wasn’t in the mood to shoot I’d mask and repaint matchbox cars found in the basement. If all my cars had fresh paintjobs I’d explore the space. I remember running my hands through the shot over by the re-loader. I remember making baseball bats out of old vinyl spools and shooting clay pigeons out at the range.

To the North in LaGrange I spent the summers with my grandfather.  The old house had a row of garage bays filled with projects. I remember the old Chris-Craft, antique bus and XKE everyone swore was junk except him. I was old enough to realize most of the implements for the Massey Ferguson were made by hand or repaired by his hand. The old leaf  vacuum. The bush hog. He must’ve worked in titanium before its existence was known after seeing the abuse of the bush hog first hand. I remember hearing him clear lots and unknown land without getting off of the MF. In the tall grass it bogged down and struggled to go through the fallen timer and rocks he’d go over. I laughed to myself. I was old enough at the time to know it wasn’t meant to do that.

I learned during the summers spent with my grandfather. I learned what to do if drivers honk at you. You flash a hand signal.  I learned if you’re late for church and run a stop sign you laugh with the officer and blame it on your 8 year old passenger.  Finally if you discover the Holy Grail you rip the pages from the binding, fold’em up and stow them away in your cutoff blue jeans so the stateswomen won’t find out.

The story of cutting the rein on the driving team after going over the bank in Wises Landing as the son of a tobacco farmer during the 30’s has stuck with me. It affects my decision to throw away goods to this day. I remember seeing him work sandpaper down to nothing. Some say it was a byproduct of his generation.  

It’s with this inspiration and my desire to build a product worthy of their names that I will build my own machines. I’ve built, painted and restored my whole life. I’m deciding now to share my love of building and creating. I’m sharing my story with others through lugged 4130.

Here’s to George Stanton and JM Eldridge. I know ya’ll are watching.