Never a borrower nor a lender be, my mother often quoted from Shakespeare. But about 10 years ago, I caved in to a neighborhood denizen named Arthur. A mutual friend of ours was in declining health and to cheer him up, Arthur wanted to take him out fishing at Wasque. Unfortunately, neither of them owned the requisite four-wheel drive. Arthur persuaded me to lend them my Jeep.

The Wasque excursion was a small triumph of human kindness and a big disaster for the Wrangler’s ignition switch. Heaven knows what Arthur did to it, but post-Wasque, starting up the car was a tricky business involving the fingers of two hands and a sharp twist of a carpal tunnel.

“Call Buzzy,” someone advised.

For decades, Buzzy Blankenship, rest his soul, was the Island’s devoted locksmith. The operative word is the — as in the one and only locksmith on this side of the Sound. In his later years, Buzzy claimed to be “retired,” but as everyone knew, that was just a technicality. Because how hard-hearted does the retired one-and-only locksmith have to be to say “No” to, say, a family with young children locked out of their home in the bleak of night? Or even to a damsel with a messed up ride?

A co-worker of mine slipped me Buzzy’s private phone number — one of the worst kept secrets on Martha’s Vineyard — and in short order, the ignition switch was tinkered back to life.

One-and-only tradespersons are probably inevitable on a small Island. In certain fields, there isn’t enough market demand to feed two. But should the one-and-only retire, fall ill, take a vacation, move away or die... well, we’re Vineyarders. We beseech tips from friends. We moan on Facebook. We Google. We find some alternative in Falmouth. We either figure it out or do without.

That’s what happened that time when the damper in my chimney seized up. The Island’s one and only chimney guy was off-Island for the whole week, and I was about to head off-Island for the whole winter. Memories of the four-legged chimney invasion of winter 2000 loomed large. Leaving the damper open was not an option.

The only other chimney service in the Island Book was based in Nantucket. Seriously? But I called, and lo, it happened that the guy was flying over to the Vineyard on a couple of jobs the very next day. He could squeeze me in. The savvy business commuter keeps a tool-laden truck at the airport grounds. After all, an island even smaller than our own can’t possibly be a lucrative chimney market all by itself.

A decade ago, we had just one orthopedic surgeon. This, on an Island with no shortage of senior citizens and injury-prone builders. In summer, add the vacationing mid-life desk jockeys trying to summon their inner Roger Federers or Shaq O’Neals. Our solo surgeon, like the solo fireplace guy, stretched his market reach to two islands, but mainly the other one. The “fly doc” service did not suffice. Today, we have two orthopedic surgeons all to ourselves.

Yet even with two-and-onlies, sometimes we still go a-begging. Take home inspections. The wise home buyer, here and elsewhere, won’t seal the deal before getting one to ensure her dream house isn’t a lemon. But just two local licensed inspectors ply the trade on this Island where, last year alone, nearly 500 homes changed hands. And wouldn’t you know, the two men took long winter vacations last year at the very same time.

Both our respected inspectors have been at it for many years. Knees and backs are feeling the years of climbing through roof hatches and crawling through crawl spaces. And besides, life is short. So we should have seen it coming: they’ve both declared they’re retiring. Or semi-retiring. The truth of the matter seems to depend on who’s asking and when. Shades of Buzzy.

Fortunately, we do have a “new Buzzy” now. The affable guy doesn’t seem to mind the label. Perhaps it’s a badge of honor. Call and leave a message. If it’s not an emergency, prepare to wait. Wait some more. The one-and-only will get to you, in turn.