Guardians of the Driveway

Whenever cruising along the local streets and houses of Marco, Goodland, and Isles of Capri, ever-patient and standing sentries are waiting with steadfast determination for whatever might come rolling through the neighborhood. The sentries are of all shapes and sizes and are often a reflection of the homeowner’s hobbies and passions for life. All mailboxes and the various masts they ride upon all harbor secrets of not only what waits inside, but from the little-known mayhem that can rush with wild abandon down an unsuspecting street. 

The postal workers and the mail trucks are indeed the valiant envoys of greetings and salutations. Never has there been a more dedicated service through rain, wind, and the dead of night, or even an occasional hurricane, but as with good and evil, a dark side is always waiting to assault the standing sentries that have little in common with the good deeds and hard work of our dedicated postal workers. 

In England, the penny stamp was the clever creation to fund the movement of letters, messages, and commerce around the world, but it was the lighted street lamps that began to hold the first cast iron mailboxes. In 1863, the U.S. mail service began to introduce free delivery mail, and within one year, freestanding mailboxes became the new norm for the new year in America. After that first new year of home postal delivery, every home ever since has had a standing sentry in the form of a mast and a mailbox. As with the courageous, thoughtful, and determined carriers of the postal service, the mailbox stands proud, but as the brave mail carrier must beware of the vicious dog on the loose, the mailbox itself is often a victim of other atrocities. 

Once upon a time on Marco Island, there was a particular Marco beach boy and his true love,which was his beautiful wife. The young couple loved the island and soon found a home to buy along a quiet street. As the beach boy and his bride began to cruise through the island lifestyle and navigate the challenges and changes that island life always offers, the couple began to outgrow their cars. 

The first car was a tiny blue Toyota that drove down through the snow and ice storms of Michigan to arrive in paradise. The second car was a little English sports car that was perfect for island life until summer came, and a ragtop convertible without air-conditioning was no match for the heat and downpours of the South Florida tropics. Sadly, the little white Triumph TR-6 had to go. The next car was much bigger, and that was where the trouble began. 

The little cars were no problem as the couple drove along the streets and boulevards named by the Mackle brothers and their family of Deltona associates. The next car however, was a used army tank of a Mercedes. The big four-door sedan soon began a new episode in the previously unfound hazards of island living. Unbeknownst to everyone, the mailboxes of Marco would soon be in peril. 

No one can be certain when the first altercation came, but one day, the beach boy noticed the passenger-side mirror was askew and needed to be realigned. He also noticed a dash of black paint where the tip of the mirror traveled closest to the side of the street. 

The beach boy shrugged off the unusual event and chalked it up to a mishap in one of the busy parking lots of the winter season. The next episode of mirror mishap came when the beautiful bride came home in tears. “Please don’t be mad,” she pleaded. “I hit a stupid mailbox with that stupid army tank of a car’s passenger mirror. That car is too big for a small island. That mirror sticks out way too far. This is not my fault! I can’t believe how close some of those oddball mailboxes are to the edge of the street!” 

Upon inspection, the beach boy was surprised the damage was so slight. The old Mercedes was indeed an army tank. The mirror was again askew, but this time, a bright green slash of paint was a new chevron on the outside mirror of the hulking Mercedes. 

On the next mailbox encounter, the German car really did prove its mettle. At the end of the neighboring street - and on the way home from the grocery store - a wooden mast and a mailbox were obviously a casualty. The driveway sentry was not on the ground…but almost.  

The day the beach boy noticed the bent-over mailbox, he also noticed a crack in the glass of the mirror and another swatch of paint that was now different from the others that were already evidence of unbridled mayhem loose on the streets. 

“I noticed the mirror was bent again,” the beach boy began, “and a crooked mailbox on the next street.” 

Without comment, the beautiful beach boy bride opened the refrigerator, cracked the top on two long-neck beers, and offered one to her husband. After her first sip of beer at the end of a long workday, with the business and tension of the busy winter season obviously weighing heavy, she shook her head and said, “I don’t want to talk about mailboxes that stick out too far. Mirrors that are too big and stick out too far and homeowners that have their oddball and goofy mailboxes too close to the street.” 

As island life has progressed over the years, and as the winter seasons become even busier, it is vital for everyone to know that cars and trucks are bigger than ever and that somewhere and somehow, mailboxes and automotive mirrors are sticking out way too far!