It started with a used ABI manure spreader. A 2012 model, if I remember right, sitting in a field with weeds growing through the hitch. The price was right—$1,200—and the frame was solid. I figured I could fix it up over a weekend.
That was my first mistake. Initial misjudgment.
The spreader needed a new set of beater bars and some floor chain. I assumed I could grab generic parts at a local shop. No such luck. That’s when I started digging into ABI spreader parts online. The OEM parts from the dealer were going to run about $850. I found a set of ABI-compatible replacements for around $620. Seemed like a no-brainer.
But here’s where the story gets interesting—or rather, where my timeline went off the rails.
The Concrete Problem
I needed to mount the spreader on a concrete pad in my shop. The pad was already poured, about 10 feet by 12 feet. I needed to drill anchor bolts into the concrete—four of them, half-inch diameter, about 4 inches deep.
I’ve done this before. In my first year (2017), I made the classic mistake of using a standard masonry bit when I should have used a rotary hammer. That cost me $200 in ruined bits and a three-hour trip to the rental yard.
Fast forward to 2024. I had a new hammer drill, a proper carbide-tipped bit, and a service manual for the spreader. I was ready.
I wasn’t.
Concrete is weird. It’s not uniform. There are rebar grids, aggregate density changes, and hidden stress lines. I drilled the first hole—perfect. Second hole—the bit hit something hard. Probably rebar. I tried to power through. The bit jammed. The drill kicked back. I scraped my knuckles on the spreader frame.
At this point, I had a partially installed spreader, three good holes, one bad hole, and a bruised ego. My wife came out and asked if I needed help. I said no. (Another mistake.)
The Bucket Hat Moment
I stopped and took a break. Walked around the yard, put on my bucket hat—the cheap one I bought at a farm supply store for $12. I don’t know why I bought it. It was a whim. But standing there, sweating, thinking about how I was going to fix this mess, the hat felt like armor. Honestly, it was more about the gesture than the protection.
I went back inside. I checked the service manual again. The bolt pattern had an allowable tolerance of 1/8 inch. I could shift the spreader slightly and drill a new hole. Problem solved. The trick was making sure the spreader sat level—we were talking about a 1-degree difference max. I used a shim made from a piece of old conveyor belt. Ugly? Yes. Functional? Absolutely.
That spreader has been in place for 8 months now. No wobble. No cracks. The fix cost me $0 and about 30 minutes of re-work.
The Westinghouse Generator Subplot
During the same week, I was dealing with a completely different issue. My neighbor—let’s call him Dave—owns a small contracting crew. He bought a Westinghouse generator for job site power. It was a 10,000-watt model, gasoline. He wanted to wire it into his trailer’s electrical panel. He asked for my help.
I have mixed feelings about portable generators on construction sites. On one hand, they’re cheap and available. On the other, they’re loud, need constant refueling, and if you don’t maintain the carburetor, they’ll gum up in two months. But Dave’s budget was tight. A permanent standby unit was out of the question.
I helped him set it up. We ran the math on his load: about 7,200 watts of tools and lights. The Westinghouse could handle it, but barely. I insisted on a dedicated ground rod—something he hadn’t planned for. Another $40 at the hardware store. He grumbled about it. I didn’t care. Safety isn’t optional.
That install took a full afternoon. We ran the wiring, installed an interlock kit on his panel, and buried a 6-foot ground rod. I charged him nothing. He bought lunch and a six-pack. Fair trade.
Lessons Learned (The Hard Way)
So what did I get out of all this? A few things worth passing on.
1. ABI spreader parts are worth the search. The aftermarket parts I bought fit well. The beater bars needed a little grinding on the mounting holes—maybe 1/16 inch—but that’s normal for replacement parts. The floor chain was exact. I saved about $230 vs. OEM. Would I buy ABI-compatible again? Yes, for a used machine. But for a new fleet unit? No. OEM all the way.
2. Drilling into concrete is never a straight line. Expect surprises. Have a plan B. Always check for rebar with a scanner if you can. I didn’t. I got lucky that the solution was a simple shift. On a larger project, that could have been a $1,000 redo.
3. Small gestures matter. That bucket hat? I wear it on every outdoor job now. It’s not just about sun protection—it’s a signal to myself that I’m in work mode. It’s a cheap, stupid thing that works.
4. Help your neighbors. Dave’s Westinghouse generator setup was a small job. I could have said no. But when you’re starting out, the vendors and friends who treat your small needs seriously are the ones you remember. Small doesn't mean unimportant—it means potential.
I’ve been handling parts and equipment orders for about 12 years now. I’ve documented 60+ major mistakes in that time, totaling probably $15,000 in wasted cash. This spreader job wasn’t one of them. It was a reminder that planning, patience, and a little stubbornness can save you a lot of money.
Pricing note: The ABI spreader parts cost $620 as of March 2024 (quoted from two online suppliers). Verify current pricing—it may have shifted. The Westinghouse generator was $1,200 retail, but Dave found it used for $800. Good deal.
