Eat More Possum

This post is contributed by Barnaby Porter. Read his previous post here.

In my life, I have owned and operated a total of 12 motorized vehicles. This seems like rather a lot to me, especially when I consider that all but the current car, pickup and tractor must by now be rusting away somewhere in one junk heap or another up and down the Atlantic seaboard – quite a pile of cast-off scrap for one person. What this one-man’s statistic says about planned obsolescence and squandered resources, not to mention the various polluting stuffs that are oozing into the ground, I’d rather not dwell on.

“Go America! Buy one of them smog-snorting steeds! Ride it! Whip it to a lather and drive, drive, drive! When it quits, just park it under a tree and walk away.”

All I can say is that it’s probably a good thing there are some among us, who, for whatever reason, have seen fit to lessen to a degree the swelling auto graveyards by at least a few “retired” cars and trucks, who have shown a willingness to coax bonus miles, wonderful miles, out of the used, the second-hand, the previously-owned and abandoned “junker.”

An example is my nephew, Beecher, who, at age 18, has already saved half-a-dozen aging cars from unnecessary retirement. They’re tired old clunkers for sure, but they snooze happily in his parents’ driveway, smiles on their grills. And they bask under the optimistic gaze of their young owner who has big plans for every one of them. It is an aspect of automobility (akin to humanity) I have known myself.

A time came when I needed a pickup truck. A new one was out of the question. One day I saw a faded red, step-side pickup by the side of the road with a FOR SALE sign under the windshield. I stopped, looked it over and decided on the spot this was the truck for me. It was a 1967 Dodge with the much-lauded slant-6 engine under its hood, four bald tires and a rotted-out wooden floor in the bed. The price was right – $800.

In terms of owner affection, not to mention utility, that truck was probably the best vehicle I ever owned. I got some rubbing compound and brought the red finish back to life. I put a new wood floor in the bed and bought four retreads to make it roadworthy. Someone gave me a bumper sticker that said “Eat More Possum,” and I slapped it on the back end. The truck definitely had character.

I had that pickup for almost 10 years. It hauled lumber, firewood, sheep and chickens, pigs, manure for the garden, rocks, hay, kids and dogs. I was very fond of it. The tailgate was secured by two hooks on short lengths of chain. As I tooled around town, the chains kind of swung and clanked back and forth and were, to me, the musical sound of contentment as old “Possum” purred along the back roads

Then I decided I needed a heavier truck with four-wheel drive. It was a reluctant parting when I sold Possum to a friend. Happily though, its new owner developed the same affection for that little pickup truck that I had known. He treated it kindly, using it for light errands only, and, the last I heard, the old thing was still clanking around Boothbay Harbor, urging anyone who had the patience to follow behind to “Eat More Possum.”

Artist and author Barnaby Porter has had a varied career in marine research, aquaculture, and woodworking, among others. Most recently he partnered with his wife Susan as co-owners of the Maine Coast Book Shop & Cafe in downtown Damariscotta. In October 2021, Barnaby completed his tenure on Coastal Rivers’ Board of Trustees after six years of service.