Faulkner
Member
One of the detriments of rural living, what some folks call living out in the country, is mailbox bashing. I hear tell that in the days of yore an occasional mailbox would get bashed every now and then, but it seems to be the life span of the typical metal mailbox on a post is short indeed.
As a result, when I first moved onto the Faulkner Homestead 20 years ago I had a brick mailbox built from bricks left over from the house. My wife said she wanted one of those big ones with plant boxes on either side so she should plant various flowers in it. I also told the bricklayer that I didn't want a wimpy mailbox, I wanted one that someone would have to work at to damage and if they tried to run over it there would be car parts left behind. The brick layer said he understood and he'd fix us up. Soon after it was completed and my wife had planted flowers in it the rural mail carrier left us a nice note saying we had the nicest and prettiest mailbox on her entire route.
That mailbox has served us well for 20 years until not long ago. One morning about 5:00 am the sheriff's department dispatcher called me and woke me up.
"Faulkner, sorry to wake you, but we just got a report of a single car accident with injury and it sounds like it's on the road near your place. I've got a deputy on the way but he's 15 to 20 minutes out, do you mind checking it out?"
"No problem," I said, "I'll go take a look. Do you have an ambulance on the way?"
"10-4."
After getting dressed I walked down my drive to the road could immediately see that the incident was indeed just across the road right in front of my place. It was obvious that my mailbox took a direct hit and the offending vehicle didn't fare well. I didn't see anyone around but as I knelt down and looked into the car I could see blood on the steering wheel and dash. I could then see tracks in the wet grass where someone had crawled out the back door and had walked to my neighbor's house. As I followed the tracks in that direction my neighbor came out and greeted me from the front porch and said the driver of the car, a woman about 30 years old, was inside with blood gushing out of what appeared to be a broken nose and his wife was attending to her. He said she indicated she had been alone in the car.
I walked back to the road and waited on the ambulance and deputy to arrive, pointing the ambulance to where their patient was. When the deputy arrived he smiled and said, "hey Faulkner, was that your mailbox?"
"Unfortunately," I said.
Turns out that the woman was stone cold sober and had just been driving too fast on her way to work. The deputy found her cell phone in her purse in the car so that apparently wasn't a contributing factor either. What was even better, she had insurance and after the insurance adjuster showed up later that day he said to send them the bill to replace the mailbox and they'd pay for it.
I hope my new mailbox holds up as well as the old one did.
As a result, when I first moved onto the Faulkner Homestead 20 years ago I had a brick mailbox built from bricks left over from the house. My wife said she wanted one of those big ones with plant boxes on either side so she should plant various flowers in it. I also told the bricklayer that I didn't want a wimpy mailbox, I wanted one that someone would have to work at to damage and if they tried to run over it there would be car parts left behind. The brick layer said he understood and he'd fix us up. Soon after it was completed and my wife had planted flowers in it the rural mail carrier left us a nice note saying we had the nicest and prettiest mailbox on her entire route.
That mailbox has served us well for 20 years until not long ago. One morning about 5:00 am the sheriff's department dispatcher called me and woke me up.
"Faulkner, sorry to wake you, but we just got a report of a single car accident with injury and it sounds like it's on the road near your place. I've got a deputy on the way but he's 15 to 20 minutes out, do you mind checking it out?"
"No problem," I said, "I'll go take a look. Do you have an ambulance on the way?"
"10-4."
After getting dressed I walked down my drive to the road could immediately see that the incident was indeed just across the road right in front of my place. It was obvious that my mailbox took a direct hit and the offending vehicle didn't fare well. I didn't see anyone around but as I knelt down and looked into the car I could see blood on the steering wheel and dash. I could then see tracks in the wet grass where someone had crawled out the back door and had walked to my neighbor's house. As I followed the tracks in that direction my neighbor came out and greeted me from the front porch and said the driver of the car, a woman about 30 years old, was inside with blood gushing out of what appeared to be a broken nose and his wife was attending to her. He said she indicated she had been alone in the car.
I walked back to the road and waited on the ambulance and deputy to arrive, pointing the ambulance to where their patient was. When the deputy arrived he smiled and said, "hey Faulkner, was that your mailbox?"
"Unfortunately," I said.
Turns out that the woman was stone cold sober and had just been driving too fast on her way to work. The deputy found her cell phone in her purse in the car so that apparently wasn't a contributing factor either. What was even better, she had insurance and after the insurance adjuster showed up later that day he said to send them the bill to replace the mailbox and they'd pay for it.
I hope my new mailbox holds up as well as the old one did.
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