The Loan

The Book of Ron · 15 of 48 · 3 minute read

When I was 13 years old, I was working on farms in Indiana. During that time the government had a program where they would pay farmers not to plant certain crops—soybeans, corn, and others. I suppose it was a way of controlling the cost of commodities. But part of the agreement required the farmers to mow those idle fields two or three times a year so Canadian thistle would not take over.

Canadian thistle was a very prolific weed, and farmers hated dealing with it. They were busy with livestock, repairs, and the work of their regular crops. Going out to mow fields that weren’t even producing anything was the last thing most of them wanted to do.

As I talked with them, that became obvious. So I started asking questions.

I went from farm to farm and said, “If I had a tractor and a sickle-bar mower, would you let me mow the fields for you? And what would you pay me?”

For a couple of months I talked to farmers. Word traveled. Farmers talked to each other about the boy who was going around asking about mowing their government fields. Slowly I began getting small written agreements—contracts to mow their fields.

Now I had the work.

The problem was I didn’t have the tractor.

Back then, the tractor I had my eye on cost somewhere around $1,500 or $2,000. I didn’t know anything about loans or banks, but it seemed simple enough to me. I had contracts. I had work. All I needed was the equipment.

So one morning I walked into the local bank.

I sat in the lobby for a couple of hours waiting to speak with someone. Eventually the bank manager came through on his way to lunch. I stepped forward and stopped him.

He looked a little surprised to see a 13-year-old boy waiting there. He listened briefly and then asked me to wait in the lobby a few more minutes.

Looking back, I’m fairly confident he probably knew some of the farmers whose names were on my papers. I suspect he made a few phone calls to check on the boy sitting in his lobby.

After a short while he came back and took me into his office.

I laid the papers out on his desk and explained what I was trying to do. He read through the agreements carefully. When he finished, he leaned back in his chair.

I still remember that chair. It was old wood, the kind that could swivel and rock at the same time.

After a moment he said, “Son, I can’t loan you the money. You have to be 18 years old, and you have to have credit established.”

Then he paused.

“But this is what I’m going to do.”

He reached for his checkbook.

“I’m going to personally write you a check. You’ve got to promise me you’ll pay me back. And you need to be honest about it. Do not forsake me.”

I looked at him and agreed.

We stood up, shook hands, and that man wrote a personal check that allowed a 13-year-old boy to buy his first tractor.

There is a companion workbook for this story. Open the workbook (PDF).