According to John Steinbeck's memory and imagination circa 1950, here's how the conflict played out in California in the 1910s:

The postmaster looked out from behind the bars of his golden grill.  "I see you've got one of those damn things," he said.

"Have to keep up with the times," said Adam.

"I predict there'll come a time when you can't find a horse, Mr. Trask."

"Maybe so."

"They'll change the face of the countryside.  They get their clatter into everything," the postmaster went on.  "We even feel it here.  Man used to come for his mail once a week.  Now he comes every day, sometimes twice a day.  He just can't wait for his damn catalogue.  Running around.  Always running around."  He was so violent in his dislike that Adam knew he hadn't bought a Ford yet.  It was a kind of jealousy coming out.  "I wouldn't have one around," the postmaster said, and this meant that his wife was at him to buy one.  It was the women who put the pressure on.  Social status was involved.

The postmaster angrily shuffled through the letters from the T box and tossed out a long envelope.  "Well, I'll see you in the hospital," he said viciously.