Predator Tractor Unleashed on Farmland by Ag’s True Maverick

Kicking dusty farmland turnrows as a young boy, Robert Precht was certain a blacked-out tractor would look outstanding. Fifty years later, his intuition has proven spot-on, evidenced by the Predator, a flat-black John Deere 9510R unleashed on the Delta dirt of northwest Mississippi.

In the spring of 2019, surrounded by a 400-acre field of open farmland and far removed from the protection of a shop or metal building, Precht transformed a standard green 9510R from stem to stern, literally completing the paint job during rain breaks. A bundle of energy, Precht’s rollicking personality bursts beyond the confines of a tractor cab: “Why would everyone want to drive something that looks exactly the same?” he asks. “Why not try something different?”

Cut from unique Southern cloth, Precht dances to his own beat, and his latest creation is one more chapter in a life chain of nonconformity. Take a ride on the Predator with a genuine maverick of U.S. agriculture.

Worthy of the Wheel

At first take, it began—and almost ended—with the hood. Hit a few fades with sandpaper, slap on flat paint, cut down the glare, end the project and move along. Not quite. In reality, the Predator’s creation began 50-plus years in the past, in the rice fields of Louisiana, amid a culture of crop dusting barnstormers buzzing the flats in airplanes painted in a wide spectrum of shiny colors. An understanding of the Predator requires a trip into the pages of Precht’s story.

Precht shapes and levels some of the finest soil in North America. (Photo by Chris Bennett)

Born in Cajun country, 100 miles west of Baton Rouge in Roanoke, Precht’s grandfather was a cattle and rice producer, and his father, Bill, was an aerial applicator—a crop duster (42 years of experience). Precht’s mother, Beverla, was a highly skilled painter, and she passed on her dexterity and creative nature to her son. Significantly, Precht also inherited artistic ability from Bill, who stained glass during winter months, despite being colorblind.

Precht’s childhood days were spent in the thick heat of Louisiana farmland, alongside his older brother, Billy, two years Precht’s senior. The boys were a force, an inseparable pair and constant presence on the turnrows—working, playing, fighting and soaking up the essence of farm life as the sibling connection grew into a steel bond. Day after day, the young Precht boys pulled red rice, cut off water, and walked rice levees with shovels and burlap sacks in tow to cap holes dug out by muskrats or nutria.

Even during the school year, the brothers put in time in the fields, crawling out of bed in early darkness to hold marker flags for their father on crop-dusting runs. On soybeans, it was flagging from daylight to 8 a.m., a succession of 17-step movements along the edge of a turnrow—the approximate width of an aircraft’s spray reach. Invariably, Precht was late to school—and he didn’t care.

By 11, Precht was deemed worthy of the wheel, and given charge of a tractor and rice cart. Including vehicles of every stripe, Precht’s passion was equipment and machinery, with a special affinity for airplanes. “I loved planes and I loved what my dad did. I grew up knowing fighter aces sometimes painted their planes a different color than the rest of the group, and that individuality was always appealing to me.

“I’m lucky to be out here every day and I’m grateful for the opportunity,” Precht exclaims. (Photo by Chr

Bill, Precht’s father, worked for Emery Lines, one of the largest Grumman Ag Cat dealers in southwest Louisiana. Pilots chose their colors, and Bill’s Ag Cat was bright white with gray wings, and red lightning bolts on the fuselage. “I soaked up all these influences from my dad and I always wanted to do things out of the ordinary,” Precht explains.

In his teens, Precht stripped a red-and-white Honda motorbike down to the frame and had it painted Mercedes Benz silver with black number plates. “It was also about having pride in your vehicle and taking care of it,” Precht says, with an accent somewhere lost between Cajun and Southern. “I still remember in 1976, Case came out with a red, white and blue edition tractor [Spirit of ’76], and I remember Steiger having a black-hooded construction tractor. No doubt, even when I was little, the idea of a blacked-out tractor seemed great.”

Magnetic Drive Paint

In 1996, Precht was hired as chief of dirt operations on a substantial Mississippi Delta farming operation, shaping and leveling some of the finest soil in North America. Almost 25 years later, his hours spent on a tractor each day are not work; they are life. Look far and wide, but it’s hard to find another operator as content in the box as Precht. “I’m lucky to be out here every day and I’m grateful for the opportunity,” he exclaims. “I was born for this.”

Precht’s flat-black John Deere sometimes goose-necking and whiplash with the public. (Photo by Chris Bennett)

An engineer in the cab, Precht digs the highs and fills the lows. Inevitably, the dirt is always long or short when shaping a field, and Precht’s aim is to get as close as possible—a task at which he is a master. Away from the tractor, when he speaks about farm equipment, his enthusiasm over machinery spills out in a flood, and the youthful excitement of a boy raised in the rice fields of Jefferson Davis Parish takes over: “I get to do what I love and that makes me work even harder. I know how short life can be and I’m just blessed to be out here.”

In 2019, with his John Deere 9510R showing several faded spots, Precht bought several cases of paint cans, and set a transformational black-out plan in action. While work stalled in a 400-acre field due to spring rains, he began with the tractor hood and hit the green with light sandpaper, wiped with lacquer thinner, and pulled out the rattle cans. “Guys have painted the top of the hoods flat-black for a good while to get rid of glare and relieve the sunshine, especially when water leveling a rice field. So that part wasn’t unusual, but once I had the hood done, I kept going.”

Using John Deere high heat exhaust paint, Precht coated the 9510R over several days—all work completed in the field. “If you’ve ever dealt with flat black, then you know it sometimes streaks, but this was good paint and it layered on really well. Biggest thing was my prepping and that’s where most of my time went, but my tractor was already clean because we kept getting rained on, and it gave me a great chance to get it done over a few days.”

And the finished product? Dubbed the Predator, with two associated decals to boot, the result is wickedly awesome, as if the tractor just rolled off the factory floor. “I blacked the windows, shot the outside, and really started on a prototype paint job. This coming winter I’ll prep even more, and get more of the details, including the inside rims.”

“For the most part, if it’s not green or red, people get really freaked out,” Precht says.

When working at field’s edge, or driving on the highway to change farm locations, the Predator causes goose-necking and whiplash from the public. “I see people stopping on the road, pointing and trying to figure out what they’re looking at. For the most part, if it’s not green or red, people get really freaked out and think they’re looking at some new secret trial or advanced vehicle testing. You can get on the internet and see other blacked-out tractors across the country, but this one sure isn’t typical.”

At first glance of the Predator’s hood decal, the vehicle appears to be a John Deere 510R, a nonexistent model. The 510R is a bit of misdirection from Precht. Translation: He intentionally removed the 9 preceding the 510R. “Of course it’s a 9510R,” he says with a wide grin, “but I knocked that part of the decal off because I just like having something unique. Anybody that really knows me is always ready for me to do something different.”

“You can...see other blacked-out tractors across the country, but this one sure isn’t typical,” Precht says.

Taking advantage of the attention generated by the Predator, Precht threw a curveball to several friends in the form of an outlandish flat-black claim—and succeeded in pulling off the feint: “I told a couple of my buddies that I’d never, never paint a tractor a new color off the cuff. I explained that the new color was actually new technology—something called ‘magnetic drive paint.’”

Precht then doubled-down on the specifics of “magnetic drive paint.”

“I told them magnetic drive paint acted like a compass heading and could be electronically charged by an accompanying device to increase the pulling power of a tractor. They were eating up the story, so I kept going, and finished up by telling them that the early models only gained pulling power if you were driving north, but that my paint was the upgraded magnetic version and came with a transfer box. In other words, no matter what direction I’m driving, the extra pulling power still works.”

“It’s amazing what people will believe when they see a blacked-out tractor.”

“I know how short life can be and I’m just blessed to be out here.” (Photo by Chris Bennett)

“That’s Just Who We Are”

Precht never rides alone in the box. Situated in the upper left corner of the Predator’s front glass, a poignant white decal contrasts against the black tint, ensuring the presence of a perpetual passenger—Precht’s older brother, Billy. The decal features a crop-dusting airplane with “N4305D” along the fuselage, and a sobering caption below: Billy Precht, Jr. 1960-2013.

Steeped in an aviation background, Precht knows the harsh reality better than anyone: There is little forgiveness for error in crop dusting. The maxim isn’t a theoretical guideline for Precht; it is reality that came calling seven years past.

“Every time I get in the cab...I look at the decal, and I know he’s with me,” Precht says.

With the sun dropping on a February day’s end in 2013, Billy, a cautious and heavily experienced pilot, made a final spray pass into a Louisiana field. Flying at 150 mph, his aircraft clipped a com¬munication tower guy wire just 3.5’ in from the wingtip. The force of the strike jolted the plane and slowed it to 120 mph as the compression from the severe impact instantly ended Billy’s life. The plane continued to fly for almost two and a half minutes, climbed to 400’ and then gradually descended, almost circling back to the tower before making a hard landing with minimal wreckage. The impact was irrelevant—Billy was already gone.

Precht was shattered. His older brother—and champion of childhood—had slipped away at 52 years of age. Yet, month by month, year by year, Precht held tight to the memories and climbed out of a deep hole. “I was in a bad way for several years, but I pulled away from a hard place and got it back together. Life is too short and too good to stay down any longer.”

“Why would everyone want to drive something that looks exactly the same?” Precht asks. (Photo by Chris Bennett)

Today, each time he enters the tractor box, Precht eyes the decal with deep appreciation. “Every time I get in the cab, I see Billy. I’m in a great place now, and every time a crop duster buzzes me, I look at the decal, and I know he’s with me. Billy’s airplane never had a normal paint job,” Precht says with a wide grin, “and I guess my tractor doesn’t either. That’s who we are.”

Special Pride

Inside the Predator’s box, Precht is lost in his own world. It is a unique freedom only he and fellow operators truly understand. “I often wonder how many guys are like me? When I’m on my tractor or even a dozer, I’m in a secure place that is hard to explain.”

“I’m still driving a tractor at 57, the same thing I was doing at 11. When you are taking care of machines, whether airplanes or farm equipment like the Predator, you should have special pride in them. When you love what you do, you should take pride in the opportunity to do that work—and that’s the right kind of pride.”

See below for a parody video of Precht discussing the science behind magnetic drive paint. Precht begins his “explanation” at approximately 1:15.