Today Mid-Continent Motors is unveiling the first farm-to-freeway car—the plant-based sedan we call the Cropper.
In designing and building the Cropper, we’ve repurposed surplus piles of unsold American farm crops and used them to replace ho-hum car parts. Cropper buyers can tootle around town while helping save the American family farm.
How’s this all work? Well, peek in through the driver’s door window. You won’t see any boring plasticky bucket seats. We ditched those. Instead, the Cropper comes standard with polished, wooden front log seats carved from a single, North Carolina tree trunk. Focus groups have told us it’s as comfortable as a bus bench for that four-hour drive to the lake.
Right behind the front log bench, first-time Cropper customers might be surprised by the gaping 87-cubic-foot rear cargo space, an abyss big enough to haul your John Deere. We achieved this by eliminating the bulky back seat. Buyers who wish for something more than a metal floor for the rear passengers’ derrieres can add our Nebraska option—comfy, Cornhusker hay bales spread out a foot deep in the back, giving off an aroma that’ll remind you of late summer wagon rides.
Looking for a snazzy paint job color like Electric Candy Apple Mango Eggplant? We’ve found a way to do this and help out Minnesota farmers too. Your Cropper will be delivered to the local showroom in its birthday suit as it came from the factory—a chaste, untouched bare steel skin. Then, our dealer will provide a face shield and overalls and let you go crazy in the spray booth behind the parts department. After slapping on a coat of vegan Minnesota corn-based gray primer, you are free to finish it off with a rainbow of hues made from tariff rejected Midwest grass silage.
We also found a way to support Missouri’s farmers and help you unlock your Cropper’s doors at the same time. To start, we did away with the fob. Instead, each Cropper SUV is delivered with a six-pack of RFID emanating underpants made from surplus Missouri hemp and woven with wave-sensitive fibers. Wear this garment under your trousers and the underwear sends a signal to the Cropper’s computer identifying you as the owner. You wear the pants—the doors swing open to only you. All sizes up to XXXX are available.
Safety? That’s always our mantra. The Cropper’s designers scrapped the run-of-the-mill metallic composite brake pads and replaced them with the Hawaii package, using stoppers made from recycled Island coconut husks. The Cropper’s driver operates these by yanking on a hand-lever under the dashboard. Our designers think the coconut fibers provide more or less enough stopping power for everyday driving. Sort of.
Some critics were miffed that we’ve eliminated the horn. We did this to support our Vermont and Arkansas growers. But, you might query, how can Cropper drivers confront road bullies and help out two states at the same time? To do this, we reprocessed rejected Arkansas soybeans, then blended that liquid with cooked Vermont maple syrup to make a sticky gel. This glop stands ready to fire through fender-mounted tubes aimed at any road-rage motorist who dares to question your parentage. The gooey stuff looks like seagull droppings and welds itself onto the offenders’ fenders. The aiming mechanism is accurate up to 50 yards.
Headlights? A final eco-triumph. We can illuminate the road ahead while simultaneously solving the over-production of spuds in the Pacific Northwest. The Cropper’s eco-conscious 10-watt lava lamp headlights are powered by electrodes stuck into nature’s own battery—a rechargeable Idaho potato. Those surplus tubers are sustainable and cheap! Each new Cropper will come with a 50-pound bag of orphaned Idaho taters in the trunk. That’s enough to light your way for a year.
So, we hope our Cropper model will interest all you early adapters out there. include the Cropper in your plans and we hope to hear from you soon.
John Hewitt is a former US Army cook and West Coast writer. His most recent absurdist novel is Freezer Burn, the story of a nearly dead ferret’s media stardom.