I paid, loaded the engine and headed down the road. Now I was excited – it was my second barn find that year! We talked a good while and finally came to an agreeable price on the engine and a neat hog oiler I spotted. It had everything that usually walks off of engines – talk about barn fresh. It was tight and missing the muffler however, it was still wearing its original Webster magneto, connecting rod greaser, pulley, oiler and 80 percent of the factory paint. In about 10 minutes we found ourselves standing in an old barn staring at the strangest little engine either of us had ever seen. We got to his house, loaded up and went to the ‘other’ farm. We exchanged a few other stories before I could no longer fight back my eagerness, ‘Say, do you have any of those old flywheel hit-and-miss engines laying around anymore?’ He paused a brief while before saying, ‘Yes, I have a small red one in the old barn I think it’s a horse and a half.’ Heart gently pounding, I calmly asked him, ‘Would you consider selling the engine?’ Maybe it’s the anticipation, or maybe the adrenaline, but that little word ‘yes’ seems to take on a magical ‘child-on-Christmas-morning’ quality when it comes directly after that question.Ĭhristmas Eve day, Dad and I headed out to look at the little red engine. In the end, he told me he wished he wouldn’t have had to quit farming, but he had just gotten too old to keep up with the many demands it puts on a person. Having grown up on a dairy farm myself, we had plenty of stories to share. Before long he was telling me all about his former career as a dairy farmer. Of course we hit all the easy topics like the high prices at the auction, the cold weather, where we live and our jobs. Not long after I sat down, an older gentleman next to me began to strike up a conversation. I found a large antique clock that sparked my interest, so I located a seat in the crowded hall and began the wait. After looking over that week’s tables and being disappointed in finding no gas engine equipment or material, I let my eyes wander to the items hung along a wall. In December of 2002, I was trying to ward off the boredom that a cold Wisconsin winter offers, so I headed to the local auction house. Randy Reysen's kerosene-fueled, throttle-governed 1-1/2 HP circa-1919 Sattley.
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