When the first warm days appeared in March, Mr. Pittman arranged a carefully controlled driving and operational evaluation on private farm ground with an experienced adult at the controls. I watched from the fence, unable to stand still. The tractor moved slowly across the yard under its own power for the first time since it had arrived, its repaired tires pressing deep tracks into the soft earth. The sound of its engine carried over the low barn and into the fields beyond. My stomach rose and fell with every change in pitch.
Grandma came outside with her coat unbuttoned and stood beside me. "Look at that," she whispered.
The 4020 made a short circuit of the level area, then stopped where the crew had planned. Mr. Pittman checked for leaks and signs of trouble. There was no celebration yet, just a careful review of what the test had shown. The hydraulic and steering assessments had gone well enough to continue, though the machine still needed a monitored trial with an appropriate implement before we could consider using it in our regular schedule.
The first attempt at light farm work revealed another issue. After a period of operation under load, a small coolant loss appeared that hadn't been obvious during the short idle test. The adult operator stopped promptly, and Mr. Pittman inspected the affected area after the machine was safe to approach. We discovered a connection that needed more attention. It was a minor problem compared with a seized engine, yet seeing the tractor parked again made me unexpectedly furious.
I kicked at a clump of dirt until it broke apart. Mr. Pittman watched for a moment and then asked whether I wanted to write "failed" in the journal or whether I wanted to write exactly what happened. I knew what he was trying to teach me, and I did not appreciate it while I was angry. But I opened the notebook and recorded the symptoms, the conditions, and the action taken. Once the correct repair was completed and checked, the following trial went better.
By April the 4020 had passed the evaluations Mr. Pittman required for the work we planned to ask of it. It wasn't restored to showroom condition. The paint remained chipped, the hood carried dents, and its yellow wheels showed places where rust had been cleaned and sealed rather than hidden under a glossy coat. I liked it that way. A tractor's first job was to work, and the repaired 4020 now had a better chance of doing that than it had in twenty years.
The day we fitted it to the farm's mower, Grandma made me stand beside the barn and listen to the instructions all over again. Mr. Atwood would drive during the first field session. The implement had been inspected, guards and connections checked, and the plan included a clear stopping point if anything seemed wrong. I helped with the permitted preparation and kept the field notes, which made me feel absurdly official. My name was at the top of the page, followed by "First Working Trial."