Sippican Cottage



A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything

Torn From the Virtual Pages of the Maine Craigslist

The Maine Craigslist is a hoot. It mostly features stuff for sale that the owner would be hard pressed to give away. In general, the prices look slightly higher to my eye than if the article in question was new. More than a few things look like something you’d have to pay folding money to get hauled away, so the owner is selling them instead.

Maybe Craigslist is like that everywhere. How would I know? We mostly give away things when we don’t use them anymore. It’s not because we’re wealthy. Just the opposite. Poor people, by definition, can’t be cheapskates. There’s nothing to part with, so there’s nothing to part with grudgingly.

Of course I featured the Most Maineiest Maine Thing in the Maine Craigslist already. It was a tank.I don’t need a tank, so I’m out of the running. Don’t get me wrong; I want a tank. I just don’t need a tank. But I bet someone did. There’s a butt for every seat, as they say.

This is in Craigslist today:

That’s a 1959 Rambler American. When I was little, my parents toted us around in a Rambler American station wagon, and I have a soft spot for it. I want that more than I want a tank.

There’s lots of reasons I want it. It’s only 5 grand. I don’t have five large, but it’s not IPO-type money or anything. The number hangs around in my mind in the future cardfile, not the hereafter microfiche.

I can fix that car. It doesn’t need fixing right now, but if the ballast resistor blows, I know where to look for it. You can sit right in the engine compartment and work on the engine. In the winter you can leave it running while you bang on it. That’s cozy.

It’s blissfully free of encumbering devices like seat belts. Fine with me I don’t want to linger. Most of all, I want it more than a tank because there’s more steel in a ’59 Rambler than in a tank, so it has higher scrap value in the long run.  

13 Responses

  1. Yay! Mr. Sipp is back!

    (I just blew in from Gerard Vanderleun's place ….)

    Hale Adams
    Pikesville, People's still-mostly-Democratic Republic of Maryland

  2. Are roads salted for snow in Maine?
    If so, I would suspect that there may not be as much steel behind the paint as there once was.

  3. I drove Ramblers for years – mainly because I was cheap and they were too. Heck, one guy gave me a '63 Classic that I drove for 4 years. Only had to replace the ballast resistor once. Still have a spare one around here, somewhere.

    But I drew the line at flathead Ramblers. Had to have overhead valves for this boy. And a V8. Talk about flying incognito – those things would run well over 100 mph but I never got pulled over because "It's a Rambler!"

  4. For an addition to Maine lore, consider the recent death of Donn Fendler.
    Donn Fendler remembered as ‘true American hero,’ legend to generations of Mainers.
    For a nine-day span in 1939, the saga unfolding in the deep woods of Maine riveted newspaper readers around the globe.
    Donn Fendler, a 12-year-old boy from New York, was lost on Mount Katahdin. At one point, he was presumed dead, and the search party shrunk from more than 300 to just 50.
    And then Fendler walked out of the woods and told his tale.
    On Monday, Fendler died at age 90. For thousands who read his story, “Lost on a Mountain in Maine,” or met the man during his frequent classroom visits over several decades, Fendler won’t be forgotten.

    His books are on Amazon.Lost in a Mountain in Maine recently was done as a graphic novel.
    His obituary made the New York Times.Pride of place makes this source secondary to the Bangor Daily News. New Englanders will understand.

  5. I was so toted around in the back of a Rambler station wagon! Eight kids meant I got crammed in at the last, way in the back.

  6. My folks had a Rambler when I was a child. I don't remember the exact model but believe it was an American sedan. I don't remember much, but I do recall riding on the back window ledge while my older brothers delivered the Sunday Minneapolis Tribune newspaper to those citizens of my small western town who where leftist. I also remember my dad being quite distraught when the old girl could no longer be repaired to a motive condition.

    I do think it was the only car he ever loved as he came perilously close to purchasing a brand new AMC Pacer when those where all the rage…

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