I bought my first car when I was 23 years old. Up to that time, all my finances had been dedicated to getting through college. Upon graduation I found my first “real” job, in the oil industry of Texas, which was a long ways away. I needed a set of wheels. What I bought was a two- door 1969 Mercury Montego, painted a robin’s egg blue. It was nearly 10 years old at that time, with 50,000 miles on it. Its only owner had been something of a maintenance freak, changing the oil every 1,500 miles.
I paid $800 for it. It was the first tangible thing I ever owned.
The car took me to Texas, then another job after that, then to graduate school the first time around, more jobs and graduate school again. Over those years we went through almost all of the states and provinces. Through that time I changed the oil every 1,500 miles as if it were a religion. I was always close to the financial edge, either in or getting ready for school again. That car was practically all that I had, and if it had ever failed me I would not have been able to replace it with more than a used bicycle.
It never failed me. That car was the only inanimate object that I ever gave a name – Mr. Gopherus – after the scientific name of the desert tortoise. The reptile and the car seemed to have a similar longevity.
While working on my doctorate I met a pretty lady and we courted in that car. After a time we married and then graduated and I found a one-year position at the University of Maine at Presque Isle.
We arrived here two days before school started. By that time, Mr. G had more than 150,000 miles. I loved that car, but it was really showing its age, and a decision would have to be made on what to do with it.
Unfortunately, the decision was made for me. We had a nice apartment on Riverside Street in Fort Fairfield, and were caught in the first of that series of floods in 1991. We had only a few minutes warning to leave our apartment before the water began pouring through the bottoms of the windows. We lost everything we owned. In the haste to leave, the car was left where it was, and was flooded up to the rear-view mirror. Mr. G. was for all practical purposes destroyed.
I could not bear to take him to the junkyard, so he sat there for a few weeks. A guy came along and asked if the car was for sale, as he wanted to work on a project with his son. If he was going to fix it up, he could have it for nothing, and I helped load it onto a flatbed and take it to his house. That was the last that I saw of Mr. G …
On a Christmas holiday 15 years later Kate and I were suffering from cabin fever, and went for an aimless drive just to get out of the house. We found ourselves lost on the back roads between Ft. Fairfield, Presque Isle and Caribou. There was a house that somehow looked familiar and so I stopped for a moment – it was the place were we had delivered my old car.
Next to the garage was a large pile of snow, with a bit of grill showing through. Mr. Gopherus! He sported 1998 license plates, so had not been driven for six or seven years. It also had a dark blue paint job, a second exhaust pipe, and mag wheels. The son still owned it, but was leaving for Iraq in two weeks. I bought the car a second time for $800.
I found a car mechanic who replaced the fluids, starter, thermostat, and alternator. I finally got behind the wheel and started Mr. G. up again. It overheated twice on the way to Caribou, so it needed radiator work and more.
Now he is the King of my garage. He turns over but won’t start. Somewhere out there is some old guy who will help me get him right again. I am still looking around for that guy, but Mr. G is home again.
Caribou
