Former factory expert revives vintage harvester on remote Argentine route

Ricardo Martínez Peck was driving through Chaco province with his wife when he spotted a Vassalli 1200 combine harvester sitting idle on the shoulder of the road near Campo del Cielo. The machine had broken down, and a family was standing beside it, stuck. He knew that harvester. He had worked at the Firmat factory in the early 1990s when Vassalli was manufacturing equipment like this one—machines that had once dominated Argentine fields. He pulled over.

The owner's daughter explained the problem: the harvester wouldn't start. No one could figure out why. Martínez Peck walked up to the machine and looked it over. The engine was a Deutz, a classic diesel motor that had become legendary in rural Argentina. He understood immediately what was likely wrong. After years sitting abandoned in a dealer's lot, then recently purchased and being transported from Charata toward Las Nenas in Santiago del Estero, the fuel system had probably accumulated water or taken in air. The solution required no replacement parts, no special tools—just knowledge of the correct procedure. He walked the family through how to purge the diesel system, step by step.

When they finished, the old harvester turned over on what little battery charge remained and roared back to life. The family was amazed. They made it to their destination without further trouble, and days later, the daughter found Martínez Peck on Instagram and sent him a message: "Thank you for helping us on the road with the Vassalli."

Martínez Peck, who now advises agricultural groups and producers, sees something in these older machines that many people dismiss as relics. Yes, they are from the early-to-mid 1990s. Yes, they are old. But they can harvest soy, corn, and wheat just as well as anything built today. The real advantage is weight. A modern combine can exceed 30 tons when fully loaded and operational—heavy enough to sink into soft ground after heavy rains. The Vassalli weighs far less, which means it can work in conditions where newer megamachines simply bog down. In wet years, when the soil is saturated, these lighter machines become invaluable.

There is another advantage, one that speaks to something deeper about how farming has changed. The old harvesters had what was called a second cleaning unit, a winnower that could produce grain so clean it came out nearly ready to bag. But operating that system required skill. The machine had fourteen different adjustments, and a good operator knew what each one did and how to use them in concert. They were, Martínez Peck says, true craftsmen. Modern harvesters have been simplified. Many of those decisions have been handed over to automated systems and artificial intelligence.

He is not opposed to this shift, but he is skeptical of the certainty with which it is being pursued. Artificial intelligence requires data to work from, and that data has to come from the operator. If the data is wrong, the AI solves the problem incorrectly. A skilled veteran operating an old machine can sometimes produce better grain than a newer one, he argues. The difference shows up in sheer capacity—when conditions are truly difficult, when the stakes are high, the newer machines pull ahead. But the notion that AI will solve everything, that human expertise has become obsolete? That, he suggests, is a mistake. A good operator working alongside intelligent systems is unbeatable. Without that human element, the machine is only as smart as the data it has been given.