Right. Iāve spent some time visiting various tractor dealerships around my adopted homeland. Thatās Wales, by the way. Iām sticking with the half Welsh thing. The reason I was in and out of these places was work. I was on a run delivering emergency tractor parts. A seized spindle or a broken hydraulic coupler, something that had a field half-ploughed and a farmer waiting. You get the call, you find the right unit in the dealership, and you get it moving. It’s good work.
Thereās an entire ecosystem in the farmland world. Something us city folk, even Birmingham city folk, just arenāt privy to. Yet itās only an hour or so from the Midlands. A different planet, just down the A44.
Thereās a very 90s vibe about these places. The sort of place where youāre expected to have a semblance of knowledge about the item before approaching the counter. You donāt just browse. There are lots of tractor and farming accessories. Think B&Q hardware aisle, but on steroids. That kinda sums it up. Bigger bolts, heavier chains, parts you don’t even recognise.
At one of the larger dealerships, in Hereford I think, I was dropping off one of these emergency bits. There was an older gentleman behind the counter. He must have been at least a couple of centuries old. His wrinkles outlined his smile. A welcoming one at that. He was one of the men who worked the parts desk.
His first question to me, after I gave him the waybill for the clutch plate or whatever it was, was a classic. āYouāre a courier, can you read a map?ā.
Not a sat nav. A proper map. This was the start of our very long conversation. We talked about maps, proper paper ones you have to fold. We talked about the environment, how the land has changed. We talked about motorbikes, because it turns out he rides a manual Honda NC750. A proper bike. And we talked about how his generation are just built of girders of hardened steel. The man was an encyclopaedia of knowledge, right there next to the fan belts. He understood the urgency of the parts I was moving. Knew exactly what it meant for the bloke at the other end.
It reminded me of a proverb Iām sure most have heard before, and I quote. āWhen an old man dies, a library burns to the ground!ā. Well, the saying hit home. Standing there, talking to this walking library of back roads and tractor models, I got it. You lose that bloke, you lose a lot of local history you canāt Google.
After our chat, I had a bit of time before the next job, so I carried on mooching around the dealership. I came across two of these āWarriorā tractors. Iāve never been into tractors but if I was, this would definitely be it. Itās around the size of my house and unapologetically big. A proper machine. You don’t drive that, you command it.
As I was leaving, the old fella was kind enough to let me take a copy of āAgricultural Traderā. It harks back to the days of buying Autotrader every Friday, only for the best stuff to be sold by Saturday morning. The same frantic energy, just for combines and seed drills. Ah, memories.
Itās these stops that make the job. Youāre not just delivering a parcel to a farm supplier. Youāre getting a glimpse into a whole other world, and if youāre lucky, a chat with one of its librarians. Beats a services any day. Even if you’re just the bloke who brought the spare part.
So, do you need a courier or perhaps a tractor?
Click on www.frigate-express.co.uk and use the calculator to quote you.
If you have any questions???? Get in touch.









