Bell had shelves of old parts manuals in a storage room.
International Harvester books.
John Deere catalogs.
Cole planter references.
Oliver.
Ford.
Allis-Chalmers.
Companies that had merged.
Companies that had disappeared.
Numbers changed across production years.
Some plates fit multiple models.
Some manufacturers used similar discs with subtle differences.
Some numbers were superseded by later numbers.
A plate that looked identical from the top might have a different hub thickness underneath.
Bell explained the basic principle one Thursday evening.
Malik had arranged fifteen cleaned plates in a row.
Bell wiped his hands on a red shop rag.
“Every planter's trying to do one thing.”
“Drop seed.”
“One seed at the right spacing.”
Bell picked up a plate.
“Machine turns this.”
He pointed to the cells.
“Seed falls into each opening.”
“Then drops down the tube.”
“Right.”
Bell picked up another.
“Corn isn't beans.”
“I know.”
“Different seed size means different cell.”
He placed the second plate beside the first.
“Different varieties of corn can need different sizing too.”
Malik frowned.
“So one planter might need several plates.”
“Could.”
“And if you've got the wrong plate?”
“You get doubles.”
Bell tapped one opening.
“Skips.”
Another.
“Broken seed.”
He set the plate down.
“Or nothing worth planting.”
Malik looked over the rows.
“So a planter can be mechanically perfect and still useless without the right plate.”
Bell smiled.
“Now you're understanding what you bought.”
The sentence changed the project.
Until then, Malik had thought he owned old parts.
That night he began thinking of them as solutions.
Somewhere, a farmer had an old machine.
The tractor pulled it.
Chains turned.
Bearings worked.
Seed boxes held.
But one cracked iron disc could make the entire machine unusable.
And manufacturers did not keep producing every part forever.
Malik began organizing differently.
The first system was terrible.
He wrote each plate on notebook paper.
Within three days, he realized he was repeating information.
Twelve identical plates did not need twelve pages.
Bell watched him become frustrated.
“What're you trying to do?”
“Catalog them.”
“Then make a catalog.”
“This is a catalog.”
“This is paper suffering.”
Malik looked at his notes.
Bell walked to the office.
Returned with an empty metal index-card box.
“Parts department used these before computers.”
Malik opened it.
Dividers.
Alphabetical tabs.
“Use one card per part number.”
“What about duplicates?”
“Tally.”
Bell pointed toward shelves.
“Location.”
Malik understood immediately.
That night he built the first version.
Manufacturer.
Casting number.
Diameter.
Hole count.
Cell type.
Known planter models.
Quantity.
Shelf location.
Condition notes.
He numbered the storage shelves.
A1.
A2.
A3.
Then crates.
C1.
C2.
C3.