He Switched His Entire Fleet to Massey Ferguson — Then His John Deere Dealer Cut Him Off

There are decisions that change a farm. And then there are decisions that burn every bridge behind you.

Rick Hollander made that second kind. 2,400 acres of winter wheat and registered Angus cattle in south-central Nebraska.

His operation sat 12 miles outside McCook, tucked between the Republican River Valley and rolling plains that turned gold every June.

Third-generation land. His grandfather broke it with a Ford 8N. His father expanded it with International Harvester machines. Rick built it into something bigger.

All of it running on John Deere green. Nine tractors, two S-series combines, a lineup of implements, sprayers, and equipment worth $3.2 million. Some of it financed. Most of it bought outright over two decades. Every machine carried the leaping deer logo.

Every service record came from the same dealership in McCook, Huxley and Sons Equipment, a family operation that had sold Deere iron in southwest Nebraska since 1971. Rick didn't just buy from them. His family helped build them. His father bought Huxley's first 4020 back in '73. Rick bought his first 8R there in 2009.

When the dealership expanded in 2015, Rick's name went on a bronze dedication plaque in the showroom lobby. Not because he asked for it, because Tom Huxley, the owner's son and general manager, insisted. "Your family," Tom had said, "this place doesn't exist without guys like you." Rick believed him until June 14, 2023. It was the second day of wheat harvest.

The kind of day that defines a year. Clear skies, low humidity. 14-hour windows where every minute counted. Rick was running his 2020 John Deere S780 combine through a 340-acre section north of the highway, cutting at 4.2 mph, grain tank filling every 11 minutes.

Then the machine lurched. Not a small hiccup, a full mechanical seizure. The entire drivetrain locked. The header stopped mid-cut. Alarms screamed across the cab display.

Rick killed the engine, climbed down, and opened the side panel. The CVT transmission had grenaded itself. Shrapnel, fluid, metal fragments embedded in housing that wasn't supposed to crack. The kind of failure that doesn't happen from wear, it happens from a manufacturing defect that slipped through quality control and sat waiting for the worst possible moment. Rick called the dealership.

Tom Huxley didn't answer. The service manager did. "We'll get someone out there tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Rick said, "I've got 1,800 acres of wheat standing. I need this fixed today."

"Rick, we're slammed. Everyone's harvesting. I'll bump you up the list, but it's going to be tomorrow at the earliest." The tech arrived 26 hours later. He took one look, whistled, and shook his head.

"Yeah, that's cooked. You're looking at a full transmission replacement." "How long?" "Parts, 3 weeks if we're lucky. Could be six."

Rick stared at him. "Six weeks?" "It's a specialized unit, comes from Germany. Deere's backlogged." "What's it cost?"

The tech pulled up his tablet. "$47,300 plus labor." Rick felt the air go out of him. $47,000, 3 to 6 weeks in the middle of harvest, with a weather window that wouldn't wait and a crop that lost value every day it sat in the field. He called Tom Huxley directly.

"Tom, I need you to do something. I need this expedited. I don't care what it costs. I'll pay rush shipping. I'll pay overtime. I need that combine running."

Tom's voice was sympathetic, professional, distant. "Rick, I hear you. But we don't control the supply chain. Deere says 3 weeks minimum. I can't make parts appear."

"You've got pull. You've been a platinum dealer for 15 years. Call someone." "I already did. They told me the same thing."

Rick stood in his shop, phone pressed to his ear, staring at the bronze plaque on his wall, a gift from Huxley and Sons when he bought his 8R. "So, what am I supposed to do?" Rick said. "Rent a combine. We've got a used S760 you could lease for the season."