“Then support.”
“Yes.”
Dan was quiet.
Leonard added:
“You’ve treated me fairly personally.”
“I appreciate that.”
“This isn’t about you.”
“Feels a little about me.”
Leonard almost smiled.
“You answer the phone. That matters.”
“It apparently didn’t matter enough.”
“Not this time.”
Dan understood.
The conversation ended respectfully.
Leonard felt worse afterward than he expected.
Not regret.
Loss.
A long business relationship had ended without anyone being evil.
That was more complicated than anger.
The transport trucks arrived in late September.
Two semis.
Then another.
Six Fendt tractors, green bodies with red wheels, rolled down the ramps into a yard where green had always meant something else.
Wade Keller, Leonard’s neighbor, drove past while the second truck unloaded.
He stopped in the road.
Then backed up.
Leonard saw him.
Wade lowered the window.
“You join a cult?”
Leonard laughed.
“Go home.”
“All six?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret know?”
“She encouraged it.”
“That woman always worried me.”
Wade drove into the yard.
Within an hour, three other neighbors somehow knew.
That was rural Kansas.
News traveled faster than cellular service.
Leonard ignored the spectators.
He inspected machines.
Serial numbers.
Options.
Hydraulics.
Fluid levels.
Tires.
Software versions.
Hour meters.
One machine showed 4.7 delivery hours.
Another 6.2.
Everything went into six new black clothbound ledgers.
FENDT 936 VARIO.
Serial number.
Delivery date.
Hours.
Purchase cost.
Trade allowance.
Warranty.
Service contact.
Leonard lined the books beside the old ones on the shelf.
The green equipment left two days later.
When the 7R 330 was loaded, Leonard stood beside it longer than necessary.
The tractor had not betrayed him.
That mattered.
It was still a capable machine.
The failure had been a part.
The larger failure had been a support structure that no longer matched his risk tolerance.
He placed one hand against the tire.
Then stepped back.
The truck left.
Curtis Hale spent the first training day insulting the Vario controls.
“Too many menus.”
Tom’s product specialist said, “You’ve used it eleven minutes.”
“That’s enough.”
Two days later, Curtis was adjusting settings without instruction.
One week later, Leonard caught him telling Wade Keller:
“Transmission’s smoother than I expected.”
Leonard said nothing.
Curtis turned.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
“I was being polite.”
“Of course.”
Fall work gave Leonard the first serious data.
He compared fuel burn by task.
Not brochure numbers.
His numbers.
Similar implements.
Similar field conditions where possible.
The results were not identical across every operation.
Some passes showed modest gains.
Others larger.
Across the full fall workload, the new fleet used noticeably less fuel.
At year-end, Leonard calculated roughly sixteen percent lower diesel consumption during comparable heavy field operations.
He did not attribute every percentage point to the transmission.
Different machines.
Different conditions.
Operator behavior.
Weather.
Still, the reduction was real enough to record.
Service costs remained low.
One planned initial service visit occurred.
Selby Ag’s mobile technician arrived thirty minutes before the scheduled window.
Leonard wrote:
Technician early.
No issues.