That’s my grandfathers hay rake he used on the old homestead out in Otsego. It was brought to our farm, along with old Babe his black Percheron when my grandparents moved into Zanesville. My dad converted it to use with the tractor. When I was 9 or 10, my job was to ride the rake and manuver the levers so the hay was left in a straight line. Dad and Mom would come back with the wagon. Dad had to drive the tractor, and she was on the wagon. My brother and I would throw the hay up and Mom would stack it so it would not fall off. There was a pulley system, so it could be hauled up into the haymow in the barn. One time the bolt, where the seat was hooked onto the frame broke, sending me forward. I hit my head on the tractor and the hayrake ran over me. I remember my Dad jumping off the tractor and running back to where I was laying on the ground. with the look of panic on his face. We used to tease him about him worrying what Mom was going to say.