A Farmer in Illinois Skips a Full Tank of Diesel

John Yeley did not buy a full transport load of diesel this year. That is new. For 26 years he has worked the family farm in Illinois, land his family has owned since 1852. He usually buys 8,500 gallons twice a year to run his equipment. Not this time. “Right now, I wouldn’t wish this on them,” he said.

Diesel prices have climbed to levels that change behavior on farms across the Midwest. The national average sits near $6.53 a gallon. In Illinois, it was $6.82 as of Friday. That number matters because diesel is not optional on a farm. It runs tractors, combines, grain trucks, and irrigation pumps. When fuel costs jump, margins vanish fast.

Yeley’s choice echoes a pattern I have seen before. During the farm crisis of the 1980s, families held onto land while cash flow dried up. They postponed equipment purchases. They stretched credit. Some made it through. Many did not. Today’s numbers test against that old story. The pain is similar. The tools to survive are thinner.

Other farmers tell the same kind of story. Sammy Tookey grows produce on 10 acres in northern California’s wine country. He sells half his harvest to a food co-op and half at farmers’ markets. Fertilizer prices are up to 50% higher compared to last year. He has raised his prices but not enough to keep up with expenses. “Having a family and a farm seems almost impossible,” he said.

George Kibby retired after 40 years in farming because his leased land was sold for housing. He now lives in Orange County, California. His view is blunt. “Little farmers don’t have much of a chance,” he said. “You work so hard not making money.”

The math behind these choices is unforgiving. Row-crop producers are projected to lose money in 2026 for the fourth year in a row. Input costs have outrun commodity prices. Diesel and fertilizer lead the squeeze. The war in the Middle East disrupted fuel and chemical feedstock markets earlier this year. Prices jumped and stayed high.

Aaron Lehman, president of the Iowa Farmers Union, says the outlook is grim. “Our farms are anticipating they’ll lose money this year,” he said. Many lost money last year too. When losses stack, equity erodes. Lenders get nervous. Credit lines tighten. That is when operations that looked stable on paper begin to fail.

The failure rate is already rising. The number of farm bankruptcies rose 20% in the 12 months ending in June compared to a year ago. Tom Ajamie, an attorney who works with farm bankruptcies, predicts the number will increase in the next two to five months. “Many farmers are on the edge,” he said. “That number will increase, I guarantee it.”

Yeley sees the same trend in his corner of Illinois. “We’ve had three farmers go under this year,” he said. He wonders if farming still makes sense for his children, a 16-year-old and a 12-year-old. “Is it really worth it to keep going on?” he asked. So far, relief has not arrived. “Unfortunately, it’s not happening,” he said.

Policy responses are forming, but they collide with other realities. Republican Sen. Charles Grassley has pressed the Trump administration to ban US diesel exports for immediate relief. The idea is to keep more fuel at home and push prices down. The counterargument is that export bans can distort global markets and hurt US producers who rely on foreign buyers. Trade policy rarely delivers clean fixes.

The proposed farm bill includes raising federal farm loan limits that haven’t changed since 2018. That would help some operations refinance or bridge a bad year. It does not lower the price of diesel or fertilizer. It does not reverse four years of losses. Loan limits are a tool, not a cure.

I keep testing today’s facts against the 1980s precedent. Back then, land values fell, interest rates spiked, and exports stalled. A wave of foreclosures followed. Today, land values have held better, but input costs have shocked the system in a different way. The pattern holds where cash flow breaks under sustained losses. It breaks where families cannot service debt after a string of red years.

The pattern also shows where it might not repeat. Some farms have diversified income. Some have locked in fuel contracts before prices surged. Some carry less debt than their grandparents did. Those details matter. They do not erase the pain. They only change who bends and who breaks.

What comes next depends on prices and policy. If diesel stays near record highs through harvest, more operators will skip inputs or delay maintenance. That lowers yields next year. That deepens losses. Bankruptcy filings would follow, as Ajamie expects. If export restrictions appear, short-term relief could arrive for some regions, with trade-offs for others.

The human question sits under all of this. Yeley’s family has farmed the same land since 1852. That kind of continuity does not end without a fight. But continuity also demands cash. When fuel and fertilizer eat every dollar, the choice narrows. Keep going and hope prices turn. Or step away and let someone else try.

For now, the most honest signal is the one Yeley sent by not filling his tank. It says the recession in farming is not abstract. It is measured in gallons not bought, acres not planted, and families asking if the next generation should stay. “Having a family and a farm seems almost impossible,” Tookey said. That line lands hard. It should.