“Someone jammed my flywheel.”
The owner looked toward the running tractor.
“You’re certain?”
The young mechanic answered:
“Yes.”
The senior mechanic shot him a look.
The young man continued anyway.
“Engine turns fine with it out.”
The owner examined the wedge.
“Where’d it come from?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
The old farmer looked toward the cameras.
“I want footage preserved.”
The owner nodded immediately.
The senior mechanic said:
“We don't know anything happened here.”
“Correct,” the farmer replied.
“So preserve it.”
The shop owner said:
“I will.”
The farmer took his phone out.
He photographed the wedge in the owner’s hand.
Then the inspection opening.
Then the bolts.
The senior mechanic looked irritated.
“Planning a lawsuit?”
The farmer looked at him.
“Planning to know what happened before I decide what I’m planning.”
The shop owner almost smiled.
“Fair.”
The young mechanic came closer.
“Can I show you something?”
The old farmer nodded.
The mechanic pointed toward the bolts from the inspection plate.
“See the flats?”
“Yes.”
“Fresh wrench marks.”
The farmer had noticed.
“They weren’t made just now?”
“Some were.”
The mechanic picked up one bolt.
“But look under the head.”
A thin crescent of clean metal showed where grime had been disturbed.
“This cover was off recently.”
“How recently?”
“Can’t tell.”
“Days?”
“Could be.”
The senior mechanic interrupted:
“Could also be months.”
The young mechanic nodded.
“Yes.”
The farmer appreciated that.
No exaggeration.
He looked at the senior mechanic.
“When did you inspect that cover?”
The man’s answer came half a second late.
“This morning.”
“You remove it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Didn't need to.”
“Then how’d you check clutch travel?”
“External linkage.”
The old farmer nodded.
“So until I asked, nobody opened this.”
“No.”
“Then whoever put the wedge in did it before the tractor arrived.”
The senior mechanic relaxed slightly.
Too visibly.
The farmer noticed.
The shop owner did too.
The owner said:
“We’ll pull the camera footage anyway.”
The farmer turned toward the young mechanic.
“Help me load it.”
The mechanic blinked.
“You’re taking it?”
“It runs.”
“Should probably inspect the flywheel.”
“Do it.”
The young mechanic looked toward his boss.
The shop owner nodded.
“On us.”
For the next hour they removed the lower plate fully and inspected the visible flywheel teeth.
Two showed bright scarring.
No broken teeth.
No cracks.
No debris.
The old farmer watched every movement.
The senior mechanic disappeared into the office.
The young mechanic eventually said:
“Looks lucky.”
“Not luck.”
“What?”
“Whoever put the wedge there knew where to put it.”
The mechanic looked at him.
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
“If it had moved deeper—”
“Could’ve broken teeth.”
“Or housing.”
The old farmer nodded.
“This wasn’t random vandalism.”
The young mechanic looked toward the office.
“You think somebody wanted it disabled, not destroyed.”
“Maybe.”