In the fall of 1951, I was a senior in high school. My dad had gotten an off-the-farm job to get ahead financially, and turned the farm over to me for the time being. He'd always picked corn by hand and expected me to do the same.
Remember, I was still in high school, and we had no horses. So to pick corn, I pulled the wagon with a VAC Case. I'd pick a bunch of corn, then get on the tractor and drive it ahead, then pick some more corn.
I lasted two hours. I said this is b--- s---, and went into town and bought a used single row pull behind picker. I thought I was in heaven!
My dad like to filled his britches when he came home from work and saw me happily going across the field with my mechanical picker. I noticed he didn't tell me to take it back, though.