John Deere Financial, f.s.b. v. Safety Lift LLC and Chance O Brown

Let’s cut straight to the chase: a company named Safety Lift LLC—which, based on the name, sounds like it should be securing things, not losing them—has somehow managed to drop the ball so hard on a $12,673.73 debt to John Deere Financial that we’re now in Harper County, Oklahoma, watching lawyers file paperwork over a sum of money that could buy you a decent used tractor. Or, you know, just one very fancy lawn mower. But no, instead of paying their bill, they’ve gifted us this thrilling legal drama: a corporate game of “I forgot I borrowed money,” starring a financial arm of the green tractor empire and a small Oklahoma business whose most notable achievement so far appears to be vanishing from their financial obligations.

Now, who even are these people? On one side, we’ve got John Deere Financial, F.S.B.—not to be confused with the guy in the tractor hat at county fairs yelling “Nothing runs like a Deere!” This is the banking division of the agricultural behemoth, the money-lending arm that helps farmers, landscapers, and small equipment operators get their hands on shiny new machinery without having to bury a chest of gold coins in a cornfield. They’re based in Wisconsin, operate nationally, and, judging by their legal representation, don’t mess around. Their lawyer, Jody D. Jenkins of Jenkins & Young, P.C., out of Lubbock, Texas, is the kind of guy who probably sends invoices for the time he spends reading emails. These are not hobbyists. They are professionals in the business of getting paid.

On the other side? Safety Lift LLC and its registered agent (and likely sole proprietor) Chance O. Brown, operating out of Buffalo, Oklahoma—a town so small it makes “one-horse town” sound like an overstatement. Buffalo’s population hovers around 300 people, which means if you throw a rock, you’re statistically likely to hit someone who knows Chance’s cousin, or at least heard about the time he didn’t pay his John Deere bill. Safety Lift LLC doesn’t have a website, doesn’t show up on LinkedIn, and based on this filing, hasn’t been heard from in a legal sense until now. But we can make some educated guesses: the name suggests they might do equipment lifting, rigging, or industrial maintenance—maybe helping install or move heavy machinery. And if you’re in that business, guess what you probably need? Yeah. Equipment. Probably the kind made by John Deere.

So what happened? Well, the filing is about as sparse as a wheat field in August, but here’s the gist: at some point, Safety Lift LLC—possibly through Chance Brown personally—entered into a credit agreement with John Deere Financial. That means they likely financed a piece of equipment. Maybe a skid steer. Maybe a backhoe. Maybe a high-tech lift system that raises tractors like they’re on a spa day. Whatever it was, John Deere Financial fronted the cash, and in return, Safety Lift LLC promised to pay it back, with interest—specifically, 11.90% interest, which, let’s be honest, is not a “buy a yacht” interest rate, but it’s also not a “hey, it’s basically free money” rate either. It’s the kind of rate that says, “We trust you, but not that much.”

But somewhere along the way, the payments stopped. Like a Netflix subscription you forget to cancel, except instead of getting charged $15.99 a month, you owe over twelve grand to a multinational financial institution with a logo shaped like a leaping deer. As of February 11, 2026—yes, the future, because apparently this case is already living in next year—the balance stood at $12,673.73. That’s not chump change. That’s enough to buy a new Ford F-150 with the base model engine and no heated seats. It’s enough to cover a year of rent in Buffalo, Oklahoma, with money left over for a decent barbecue habit. And yet, according to John Deere Financial, Safety Lift LLC just… didn’t pay it. No drama, no dispute over the equipment being defective, no claim that the tractor came to life and drove itself into a lake. Just silence. The financial equivalent of ghosting.

Now, why are we in court? Because this is a “Petition on an Account and Money Lent”—which sounds like Latin but is actually just legalese for “you borrowed money, you didn’t pay it back, so we’re suing.” In plain English: John Deere Financial is saying, “We gave you money under a contract. You agreed to pay us back. You didn’t. Now we want the court to order you to pay us, plus interest, plus fees.” There are no wild accusations of fraud, no claims of sabotage, no allegations that Chance Brown used the equipment to start a rogue corn maze empire. It’s a straightforward debt collection case—the legal version of sending a strongly worded email after the third reminder.

And what do they want? $12,673.73. That’s the number. Cold, hard, and oddly specific—down to the penny, like someone ran the numbers on a spreadsheet and hit “print” without rounding up. Plus interest. Plus court costs. Plus “reasonable attorney’s fees,” which, if you’ve ever seen a lawyer’s hourly rate, could mean several hundred more dollars just for the time it took to file this two-paragraph petition. Is $12,673.73 a lot in this context? Well, for a small business in rural Oklahoma, yes—it’s a meaningful sum. But for John Deere Financial, which probably deals in millions of dollars of equipment financing daily, this is a rounding error. It’s the kind of debt that might not even trigger a meeting with the CEO—more likely assigned to a collections team with a spreadsheet and a quota. But still, principle matters. And also: interest keeps ticking. That 11.90% doesn’t sleep. It’s compounding. It’s growing. It’s the financial version of a horror movie villain that just won’t stay dead.

So what’s our take? The most absurd part of this case isn’t the amount, or the location, or even the fact that we’re covering a debt collection suit like it’s a courtroom thriller. It’s the sheer ordinariness of it. This isn’t a feud over a stolen heirloom or a dog named Mr. Snuggles. This isn’t a neighbor dispute over a tree that overhangs a fence. This is a cold, clean-cut case of someone borrowing money and not paying it back—like a real-life version of “I’ll pay you back next week,” except “next week” turned into “never,” and now there’s a lawyer in Texas typing up formal demands.

And yet… part of us roots for the little guy. Chance Brown, running a one-man operation out of Buffalo, Oklahoma, probably wearing boots that have seen more dirt than a city park. Maybe business slowed down. Maybe the equipment broke. Maybe the dream of Safety Lift LLC just… didn’t lift. And now the bill collectors from the tractor industrial complex are knocking. We don’t know the full story—this filing doesn’t give us the human side, the late nights, the tough calls, the moment when paying John Deere meant not paying the electric bill. But we can imagine it.

Still, let’s be real: John Deere Financial isn’t here to hear sob stories. They’re here to get their money. And unless Chance Brown shows up with a check, a solid excuse, and maybe a really good reason why 11.90% interest isn’t fair, the court is going to side with the company that literally has a deer as its mascot and probably owns more land than some small countries.

So grab your popcorn, folks. This one might not have fireworks, but it’s got interest—and not just the financial kind.