Motor Car

Hardly regarding it, they turned to resume their conversation, when in an instant (as it seemed) the peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind and a whirl of sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch. It was on them! The "Poop-poop" rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they had a moment's glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and rich morocco, and the magnificent motor-car, immense, breath-snatching, passionate, with its pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all earth and air for the fraction of a second, flung an enveloping cloud of dust that blinded and enwrapped them utterly, and then dwindled to a speck in the far distance, changed back into a droning bee once more.


The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame


Considering today’s Wind in the Willows theme, and thinking about Toad’s obsession with motor-cars, I took the back way home today and stopped into the Seal Cove Auto Museum. One curious thing about where I live is that, for no clear reason except the eccentricity of a very wealthy man, a truly impressive collection of brass-era automobiles is stored just down the road in one of the least travelled parts of the island. Perhaps he had a bit of the toad in him.

They were just about to close, but the guys there were kind enough to let me stop in for a minute free of charge to take a few photos. This Searchmont came out in 1904, just before the Wind in the Willows was published. This was also the same time as the local “Auto Wars,” when wealthy transplants to the area were advocating for cars to be outlawed on the island. When it was clear that was not going to happen, John D. Rockefeller funded the construction of miles of carriage roads, which remain car-free to this day.

Visiting this museum always reminds me of my father, who knew far more about cars than I ever will. On one of his visits here I took him to the museum on a lark, and was surprised and pleased to see how absolutely floored he was to encounter this display of automotive history. He knew even more about cars than I realized.

There is also real irony in the horrible noise that came from the undercarriage of my own car when I pulled in to the museum lot. I drove the rest of the way home well below the speed limit. This Searchmont, which is in great shape and absolutely drivable,  probably has more good miles left in it than my Subaru.