People on Martha’s Vineyard have a special relationship with their cars. Only a true Vineyarder understands what an Island car is. I realized this when my friend Cynthia Riggs and I had to explain to a fairly recent wash-ashore that we are not insulted when a complete wreck of a car is referred to as an Island car. In fact, we are amused and even proud of the fact that rather than trading in our automobiles every two years as some do, we keep them until even magic can’t make them run. Cars that have spent 15 or more years on the Island, even if garaged, will never win a beauty contest. Mostly what cars are used for around here is to go fishing and to the beach. Unlike the pretentious Brits who call their station wagons estate cars, no self respecting Vineyarder would call it anything but a beach wagon.
An automobile or truck can become an Island car in several different ways. Much like when the doctor told you that Grannie needed more care than the family could give her at home, your mechanic will sit you down, pat your hand and say you shouldn’t take your little Cabriolet off Island any more—it has become an Island car. Or when the power steering, electric windows, air conditioning and heat no longer work and you don’t bother to get them fixed—you have an Island car. And especially when you develop the habit of leaving the keys in the ignition and the car running when you do your errands because, sadly, you know no one would bother to steal it—you have an Island car.
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I heard that the duct tape people took a survey here regarding the use of their product. Fully expecting an answer that included some sort of marine use—we are an island after all—they were astounded to learn that most of the tape sold on Martha’s Vineyard is used to hold Island cars together. When this tape is exposed to the salty fog of Martha’s Vineyard, however, it tends to peel off and flaps around in the wind like the flags at Daytona Speedway. Which is why a lot of Island cars look as though they are doing the hula.
Some people try to camouflage the fact that they are driving an Island car by decorating it with rubber ducks, plastic flowers or even gluing on fabric to lend it an upholstered look. No matter how they look, it’s important to keep them in running order. The prestige of having years of Lucy Vincent Beach stickers on one’s window cannot be underestimated. When an Island family makes it, they have two Island cars and park one in the Steamship Authority off Island lot for runs to BJ’s and Wal-Mart.
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Island cars carry the recent political history of the Island through their bumper stickers. “Save our Sound” is popular right now and the perennial “Mopeds are Dangerous” is always out there, but on a true Island car there will be a faded “I Survived the Cook Street Intersection,” “Secede Now” or “Save the Substandard Bump” sticker.
I saw an Island car that was so awful looking even the owner was ashamed of it. It had a bumper sticker that said “Not My Truck!” The one thing I don’t understand is why someone would spend the money for vanity plates on a car that looks as if it spends most nights in a junkyard. You know who you are.
When an Islander does have to say goodbye to his Island car, you would think it would be a good excuse to go off Island and buy a brand new shiny SUV. Not so. They look around for another Island car. Someone told me that Island cars get traded around like girlfriends in the winter. Car aficionados believe that what’s under the hood is what counts. That sounds good when you’re driving an Island car, dammit!
Getting rid of an Island car isn’t easy, since most people have an abnormal attachment to them and the $200 it costs to ship it off Island. There is John Leite’s junkyard in Oak Bluffs, but this seems like an ignominious end when nothing short of a Viking funeral would do. There are those that remove the plates and consign their beloved vehicle to an honored corner of the yard. Unfortunately, Island law permits only one per property. What to do in 25 years when the next Island car gives out? I can only think of three alternatives. Bury it a la that Viking funeral, donate it to Featherstone for their metal sculpting class or take your blowtorch to it and turn the pieces into Island souvenirs.