That was when they found the first real clue.
The starter drive was jammed.
Not merely stiff.
The gear remained partially engaged toward the flywheel.
The nose housing showed an old fracture that had been brazed years earlier.
The boy stared.
His father rotated the starter gear by hand.
It barely moved.
“Well.”
The boy felt his heart speed up.
“That could lock the flywheel.”
“Could.”
“You think that’s it?”
His father looked at him.
“What would Grandpa say?”
The boy sighed.
“That we haven't proven anything.”
“Exactly.”
They set the starter aside.
Then his father placed a long breaker bar carefully on the crankshaft.
The boy stood beside him.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
His father applied pressure.
Nothing.
The boy’s stomach dropped.
Again.
Nothing.
The father repositioned the bar.
“Could still be stuck.”
The boy stared at the engine.
Four hundred dollars suddenly returned to his mind.
Every dollar.
He had imagined being right.
He had not properly imagined being wrong.
His father pushed again.
Nothing.
The boy looked toward the floor.
Then the crank moved.
Barely.
Maybe an eighth of an inch.
His father froze.
The boy looked up.
“Did that move?”
“I think so.”
“Do it again.”
His father reversed pressure.
The crank moved backward.
Then forward.
A little farther.
The boy’s entire face changed.
His father smiled.
“Engine isn't solid.”
The boy almost shouted.
His father raised one hand.
“Easy.”
“But it moved.”
“Yes.”
“That means—”
“It means it moved.”
The boy stopped.
He understood.
No conclusions yet.
They worked the engine gently.
Back and forth.
Never forcing a full rotation immediately.
Penetrating oil.
Patience.
Movement increased.
Then resistance.
Then movement.
By Saturday afternoon, the engine completed a full revolution.
The boy sat on an overturned bucket.
He could not stop smiling.
His father wiped his hands.
“Now you’re allowed to be happy.”
The boy looked toward the engine.
“So it wasn’t seized.”
His father corrected him.
“It was stuck.”
“Difference?”
“Seized usually suggests internal damage or serious locking.”
“This may have been surface corrosion plus that starter.”
“May.”
The boy nodded.
“May.”
They sent the starter to an old electrical shop.
The owner opened it.
“Junk.”
The boy’s face fell.
Then the man added:
“Starter’s junk.”
“Tractor might be fine.”
They found a rebuilt replacement.
It cost one hundred forty dollars.
The boy stared at the price.
“That’s more than a third of what I paid for the tractor.”
The shop owner shrugged.
“Welcome to fixing cheap equipment.”
The boy’s savings fell further.
Parts accumulated.
Fuel filters.
Oil filter.
Hoses.
Belt.
Battery cables.
A used radiator.
Gaskets.
Fresh oil.
Diesel fuel.
The four-hundred-dollar tractor became a seven-hundred-dollar tractor.
Then eight hundred.
His mother kept a running total on the refrigerator.
The boy hated the list.
Every time he opened the door for milk, there it was.
TRACTOR
Purchase: $400
Hauling: $45