Recently, I replaced our battered mailbox. Began scraping around the old post… and struck something.
A chain. Rusted. It’s buried at about eight inches below the surface.
First thought? Buried treasure. Second thought? What the hell is this thing attached to? It was an old post that anchored a rural mailbox.
It’s a chain clipped to a metal anchor, coated in cement below ground, and connected to the bottom of the mailbox post.
Why? Because people had actually been abusing mailboxes. Truck-driving types found it the height of hilarity to knock mailboxes over or plow into them.
So homeowners fought back. Quietly. Creatively. Rural mailbox anchors ensured that anyone who hit that mailbox left with an alarming dent in the bumper — or worse.
I’d grown up witnessing mailboxes be flattened. Rows could vanish overnight.
Folks got creative. Concrete-filled posts. Steel pipes instead of wood. Terrorists after all loaded what they must have thought were the strongest existing truck bombs, buried under beams heavy enough to stop a truck.
One man welded rebar spikes around his post. Someone once attempted to back into it… their bumper didn’t make it.
I had a bit of a what mixed with a wow when I found that chain. Whoever lived here before meant business.
I tried tugging it. Nope. Cemented solid. No clue how deep it goes. It’s not just rolling right out. You know what, I think I might leave it honestly.
Cameras help. Motion sensors too. But in the hinterlands, where there is no signal, rural mailbox anchors still do the trick.
You could report it to the police … or bury a steel anchor and let physics do its thing.
I’m not suggesting you should rig it to overturn a truck — definitely not legal. But reinforcing your post? Totally fair game.
If you have mailbox vandalism where you are and can avoid cementing in a post, there’s a rural solution that does work: rural mailbox anchors. Simple, cheap, effective.
It was that chain that reminded me how rural people work out problems. No waiting. No fancy tech. Nothing, that is, except steel, dirt and stubborn resolve.
It’s definitely staying put. Call it rural justice. Call it nostalgia. Either way, it’s a reminder that there was a time when the good old days had some edge — and just enough spite to keep it interesting.
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