About the last place you’d expect to see a 1951 Nelco Solocar would be Fort Stockton, but damned if there wasn’t one parked outside the post office back from ’51 all the way up to about the mid-80s.

Lieutenant Jim, folks all called him LT for short, moved to town in late ’51 and moved into the old Burnett house over on San Jacinto. Anytime someone new moved into town it was kind of a big deal, much less a war hero from across the pond. There was a fairly good sized crowd of folks out in front of his house when the Mayflower moving van pulled up and started unloading.

LT was on the front porch sipping a cold gin and tonic and barking out orders to the crew unloading his furnishings. “Be careful with those books!” he yelled as they toted in box after box of Eliot, Dickens, Thomas, and Waugh. Single and without progeny, his collection of early 20th century literature seemed to take the place of family.

As the movers unloaded his collection of Stickley furniture, it was obvious LT had a taste for the finer things. As the last of the craftsman furniture and mission style shelves to hold his collection of books was unloaded, the lead mover rolled out the final item from the van, the Nelco Solocar.

Nobody could recall seeing anything like the three wheeled machine, but with its khaki colored paint and jaunty red pinstripe, the mobility device cut a figure as dashing as LT, himself, pith helmet and all. It was only a matter of weeks before he was unpacked and seeking gainful employment down at the post office.

“Do you have any allergies to anything?” Stamps Golthwait, the postmaster in Fort Stockton at the time, asked him.

“Caffeine, I’m afraid,” LT answered, not really sure how that was relevant to the position he was applying for.

“Ever been in the military?” Stamps asked him.

“Served proudly in Dubya Dubya Two,” LT exclaimed, stiffening with a sense of pride, though he didn’t like to brag.

“That’ll give you extra points,” Stamps told him. “Do you have any disabilities?”

LT lowered his voice and looked around before answering. “A bomb went off near me. Lost both my testicles. It also impacted my mobility, hence the Nelco out front.”

Stamps squirmed in his seat as he thought about the injury. “A disabled veteran, then. That’s enough for me to hire you right now. Normal business hours are 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM. Why don’t you just show up at 10:00 and make that your normal start time every day?”

LT was grateful for the offer, but puzzled about the schedule. “If the hours are 8:00 to 4:00, why don’t you want me to come in till 10:00?”

Postmaster Golthwait leaned back in the green vinyl chair and lit up a Camel. “This is a government position,” he explained to LT. For the first two hours we just stand around drinking coffee and scratching our balls. No point in you coming in for that.”

LT was a faithful employee till the day he retired from the post office. Always claimed he enjoyed the job. Nonetheless, every afternoon at 4:01, he’d be in that brown pleated leather seat and have the Nelco up to full speed down Houston Street, taking the corner into the Lucky Lady Lounge on two wheels. The handle on the long steering tiller was just about exactly like the ones on the frosty mugs of ice cold Pearl beer waiting for him inside.