Latest Hauling Machine Is in the Garden

Gardening and stick-shift cars always have been two of my great loves; if I were a rich man, I'd own as many vehicles as I could house. And, gardening, well, gardening is life.

The two have intersected repeatedly in my life. I must garden, and any machine I drive must haul plants and dirt and pots and such. No matter how elegant, or how small, my cars must get dirty sometime. That even included my 2004 Nissan 350Z, sold a couple of years ago.

A gardening vehicle is a hauler, yes, but it is so much more; it is an enabler, making it possible for me to feed my obsession any place, any time. I've often said that my cars cannot pass a nursery without turning in on their own. Too, my cars are buddies, sharing the labor, the pleasure, and the pain of making spaces naturally appealing. Together, we get wet, soaked with mud, heated in the sun, covered with snow and encrusted with ice when gardening calls.

It is only fitting that I give them names; they earn them.

Going back to the 1980s, there was the fabulous 1986 Honda Prelude, light blue, angular, and an extraordinary hauler, name of Yoshi. That Prelude helped me build three gardens: one in the nation's capital and two in Georgia, including one at our cabin on the Blue Ridge.

While living in the Peach State in the 1990s, Lyn and I drove to a wedding in New Jersey – just so I could stop in Charles City, Virginia, on the way back and buy English boxwoods propagated at a historic plantation. Twenty of them, enough to fill the car with that fine boxwood fragrance. As I loaded the last few, it became clear that space would be tight, prompting Lyn to say she was glad I wasn't forced to choose between the boxwoods and her.

Space in the Prelude during that ride wasn't nearly as tight as when I bought three good-sized threadleaf Japanese maples for my Atlanta garden and stuffed them inside the little car.

And, many's the time Yoshi's rear bumper almost dragged the ground, pulled down by a load of stone or cement planters. He never complained during his 14 years of service.

Neither did the 1999 Jeep Cherokee named Joe nor the 2000 PT Cruiser (Al). They joined the family for a couple of years, carrying plants to our mountain place near the Georgia-Tennessee line.

Succeeding them was my first truck, a 2001 Toyota Tacoma (Hoshi Kawa), the pickup that hauled just about all of my current garden, here in Connecticut. There's nothing like a truck, and I'm glad I finally owned one.

In addition to being a fine work horse, the Tacoma made it possible for that silver Z to remain mostly a show horse named Zuma, making only occasional hauls when I found some irresistible plant during a road trip. Similarly, the truck made it possible for Lyn’s Prius (or Pius, as some say; we call her Verde) to live a relatively clean life compared with Prelude Yoshi, whose worn-out, dirt-stained carpet had to be replaced. (I passed that car on to a tuner-kid at 150,000 miles, still running like a fine clock.)

After 10 years, good ol’ Tacoma Hoshi, needed less for mass hauling because I've crammed an acre as full as I can, has been put out to pasture, traded for something smaller: a Kia Soul.

I bought him last week, happy to know standard transmissions still can be had. And, three days after he came home to join the Prius, along with myriad memories of gardening vehicles, he got his first job, starting light with three small indoor plants bought at Ballek's Garden Center: two jasmines and a citrus-scented geranium. I gave him a name, too. SoulLee (inspired by movie superstar WALL-E).

If this sweet beginning is any indication, I’m in store for another beautiful relationship.

Lee May, retired newspaper writer, blogs at LeeMaysGardeningLife.com.