In the summer of 1999, I realized I needed a car. (And a job, and a place to live, but the car is what this post is about, so forget about the other stuff.) I also had no cash, so I couldn’t afford a down payment on a new car, and I wasn’t confident about my luck in the used car market, so I walked into a Toyota dealership and drove off with a 1999 Corolla SE, leased for thirty-six months.
This car has taken me through a speeding ticket, two violations of my license plate tabs, a 720 skid through a stoplight on an icy road, and well over a tenth of the mileage on that car came from assorted trips to Chicago. The majority of the rest was to and from work.
So mundane, so ordinary. It was a workhorse.
The end of that lease is within sight, and I’ve already arranged for my next mode of transportation, so all that remains for this fair steed is to clean it out and return it to the dealership. While cleaning, though, I realized just how much trash had accumulated over the course of those years and miles.
Some of it was trash, of course, but the rest of it was not quite trash – stuff thrown into the back seat and forgotten about, dumped into the glove compartment, the trunk, what have you. It amused me to see things from nearly three years ago – well, embarrassed me would be more likely, but still.
And as I cleaned, I took notes of what was where. Why? I’m not quite sure. Thread material? Doubt it, but that’s never been one to stop me.
Behind the driver’s sun visor:[ul][li]A business card for a coworker of mine from whom I considered taking piano lessons, but opted out of them when I remembered that I couldn’t stand how he could never get to the point, and decided that he wouldn’t be the kind of teacher I’d want. I kept the card, though, as I needed his cell # for his super bowl party last February.[]$6 in singles. I’d stuff cash up there for tolls or parking fees, primarily for the airport.[]An endorsed check for $108.64 for Julie’s share of the hotel room in Toronto a few weeks ago. Endorsed because I went to deposit it Saturday evening at my bank’s ATM, but after I signed it and put it in the deposit envelope, I found out that the ATM was out of order.[/ul]In the small storage compartment to the left of the steering wheel:[ul][]13 parking stubs from the Holiday Inn parking garage on Washington Ave, next to the Southern Theatre. I used to go to an open-mike performance on Saturday nights at midnight at the Southern. Don’t really recall why I stopped.[]A parking stub for ValleyFair, an amusement park just outside the Twin Cities. I have no recollection of driving there in the past three years, but clearly I did.[/ul]In the center storage compartment beneath the tape deck:[ul][]A deck of cards. I bought the deck in September 1999. A friend of mine, Ben, had been a passenger in a DUI accident that killed the driver and sent him to the ICU. To give us something to do when visiting him, I bought a deck and brought it along. He gave it back to me the last time I saw him before he was released from the hospital, and I had forgotten about it until today.[]A tape of 17th century violin music.[/ul]In the ashtray:[ul][]Cigarette ash.[/ul]On the passenger seat:[ul][]The “here’s what not to do after giving blood” sheet after I gave blood last Thursday.[]A brochure on bone marrow donation.[]A receipt from Hollywood Video for Ocean’s Eleven and The Emperor’s New Groove. The latter movie has been on repeat in my DVD player all weekend.[/ul]On the floor in front of the passenger seat:[ul][]Audiotapes from National Public Radio: Car Talk, Guy Noir, Pretty Good Jokes, More Car Talk, some Best Of NPR. All obtained for the Chicago roadtrip tradition for the last ChiDope in April.[]Post office receipt, thus proving I am no longer a Post Office Virgin.[]A small packet of silica gel - careful, don’t eat that. It’s a dessicant.[]A portable CD player with the tape adapter.[]A tape of French cajun music. It makes me wish I knew enough French to follow along.[/ul]Around the parking brake:[ul][]A tag with a phone number scribbled on it. I don’t recognize the area code nor the number. I’m reluctant to call.[/ul]Between the seats and the center armrest:[ul][]A Twix wrapper.[]A Children’s Theatre ticket stub.[]An empty Certs container.[]A smooshed and folded container for the twelve tapes of the unabridged Pillars of the Earth audiobook.[]An orange card on which I had started to write a message to Ira Glass before my date for the evening decided that she was bored and didn’t want to stay any longer.[/ul]In the glove compartment:[ul][]20 unopened packs of the Dark expansion for Magic: The Gathering. I’ve been meaning to drop by a hobby store and sell those off at whatever price.[]The 12 tapes of Pillars of the Earth.[]Car insurance information, both old policies and new.[]Driver’s manual, never once opened. Erm.[]An extra key for the car, made but never given to the second driver.[/ul]And now, to the full parts.[/li]
In the compartment under the center arm rest:[ul][li]Two chicken recipes. I used to have a container of tarragon in there, but Nymysys made me remove it. I don’t recall quite why.[]Directions to the Social Security offices in Mpls.[]A failed Powerball ticket.[]A receipt from Best Buy for Casablanca on DVD, including their scribbles on it from when I needed to return and exchange it due to a faulty copy.[]A credit card statement for an ex-roommate of mine. This man tried to have me evicted and arrested for trespassing in the apartment we shared with two other guys. The police and the landlord laughed at him, but I moved out anyway, leaving him to cover my part of the rent. One of the other roommates gave me the bastard’s statement, saying that if I could think of something to do with the credit card number… and left it at that. I thought about it, but eventually did nothing. No revenge. I have held a grudge, though. I tore up that statement and threw it into the trash this afternoon.[]A mailing address for Laura B in Texas. She was a starving artist friend, and I commissioned a painting from her in December 99 as a gift from me to me. It’s currently hanging on the wall in my living room.[]Many, many receipts of various kinds. Grocery store, convenience store, restaurant, bar, and so on.[]Four Advil cold & sinus pills. Odds are they’re bad by now.[]Two AA batteries.[]My old blood donor card, with which I reached the two-gallon mark.[]A 3 gift certificate to Starbucks, which is odd, as I've never bought anything from them in my life.[*].36 in pennies.[/ul]Behind and under the driver’s seat:[ul]A note from the USPS saying “We tried to deliver a package but it’s in the landlord’s office” from this past Friday.[]25 feet of cat-5 cable, coiled neatly.[]One black winter glove.[]Medical insurance info - specifically, the thick catalog of doctors and specialists that I can see.[]2 yellow legal pads.[]A sun-faded box from Curse of Monkey Island. (CDs nowhere to be seen.)[]10 unabridged Fellowship of the Ring audiotapes, purchased last October for roadtrip-amusement.[]An ice scraper, useless until November.[]An empty Snapple bottle, easily the oldest thing in my car. It found its way under the driver’s seat within a week after I got the car, and during a turn, it’d roll and clink against something. It gave my car charm.[]A box of magnetic poetry.[]The April 7th Chicago Tribune.[]Dennis Miller’s rants, tape 2.[]A tape of Nova Scotia folk music. (Nova Scotia? How did I ever get that tape?)[]A single first-class postage stamp.[]More receipts. And more. And more.[]A 3.5" Ontrack data recovery diskette.[]Steven Brust’s CD A Rose for Iconoclastes.[]A Darth Maul and Qui-Gon Jinn Star Wars collectible card game cards, encased neatly in a hard plastic sleeve. Those belonged to a former roommate of mine. I should return them.[/ul]Behind and beneath the passenger seat:[ul][]A pair of old work gloves, used during the winter when the wheel was too cold to grip directly.[]Directions to my manager’s bbq, held last weekend.[]Headphones, possibly to the discman in the front seat.[]A 22oz plastic container of lamp oil for firebreathing.[]An empty 20oz bottle of Dr Pepper.[]A burned copy of the Blues Brothers soundtrack.[]A crumped McDonalds bag.[]A copy of Caesar’s Gallic Wars from 1895.[]A power cable for a computer.[]A padlock with no key.[/ul]Behind the passenger seats, by the rear window:[ul][]2 plastic license plate frames from Interplay Productions, since warped by the sun.[]Yet another catalog of medical insurance information.[]40 ft of cat-5 cable, again coiled neatly.[]A VHS tape of The Spanish Prisoner, loaned to me by Amy nearly three years ago. After it had been in the car for two weeks, it had warped in the sun. I bought her a replacement, but left the old one in there, letting it get progressively more tortured and distended by the heat. Maybe there’s a moral in there somewhere.[/ul]And in the trunk:[ul][]Empty boxes for The Sims: Livin’ Large, Mechwarrior 4, Descent to Undermountain, X-Com Collector’s Edition, Black & White, Ultima Ascension, and Baldur’s Gate 2.[]Directions to somewhere in Minneapolis, and a phone number labeled ‘Rachel’. I have a vague memory of dating a Rachel this past spring, but that’s definitely not her address.[]Another (you saw this coming, right?) catalog of insurance information. If I got one a year for three years, well, that’s all of 'em in my car.[]Directions to Grumpy’s, a bar in north Minneapolis.[]A 1943 US Navy bluejacket’s manual.[]My lucky silk Pepe lePew boxers. They were lucky for me the day I bought and wore them in college, they were lucky for me the next two times I wore them, but they were unlucky for me the last time, and since then, they’ve gone into the trunk. Funny, how I still call them my lucky silk boxers. They had their chance, and they blew it.[]Yet another legal pad.[]Three torches, and an empty container of lamp oil. It used to be half full until it spilled. Er.[]16 3.5" floppies of varying contents.[]A salt shaker.[]A camcorder case without a camcorder. Never had one.[]Contact lens solution.[]Manuals to Icewind Dale and Panzer General 2.[]A water cooler with no water, but $1.75 in change inside.[]My fencing mask, and an old, beaten, bent and nearly broken foil.And, second only to the snapple bottle under the driver’s seat, the oldest content of my car – a food processor I was given as a housewarming gift in August 1999, which I had no use for, put in the trunk of my car, and forgot. It came out of the car for the first time today.[/ul]Nearly three years later, and just a few hundred miles over the lease, I’m done with this car.[/li]
There’s a lotta memories I just threw out, and a lot more I tossed into a box and shoved into the closet.
I wonder what I’ll be cleaning out of my next car, years from now.
