What Might Otherwise Be Junk

Posted byrandy@letters-to-rachel.memorialPosted inHome Archaeology, Retail Therapy, Updates From the Abandoned PlanetTags:, , , , , , , , , , ,

Dearest Rachel –

Well, I’ve gone and done it; we’ve gotten ourselves a new car. Only has some four thousand miles on it, bought straight from the dealership, for the first time in my life.

And already it looks at home in our driveway, complete with a light dusting of snow from its first overnight stay here. Good thing both the driver’s seat and the steering wheel are heated.

I might even have to do this again relatively soon, albeit this time for Daniel’s sake; I’d rather he not run your car into the ground before he has a vehicle that he can truly call his own. And I realize that, like the proverbial little old lady of used-car legend, he barely drives it but to church every other Sunday (as well as a weekly pilgrimage to the triangle on his own for a smoothie-and-sub lunch), so it’s not as if he’s putting a tremendous amount of wear and tear on it, but he needs something more ‘him.’ That way, we can retire yours to its final resting place in the garage that hasn’t sheltered a car since Rocinante.

At least now he knows a little bit of what the experience is like; I was assuming that he would be sleeping in right until I had to leave for my appointment at the dealership, but after telling him about my plans en route to and from Sparks Monday night, it would seem that he wanted to come with. If nothing else, he’d taken it to heart when I mentioned that I would need to clear everything out of the old car before leaving it at the dealership – that’s what comes with the process of a trade-in, after all (although, to be honest, I don’t know if bringing it in did anything to bring down the overall price of the new vehicle). Somehow, he wanted to be a part of that cleaning-out process, rather than run the risk of my forgetting and leaving something ‘important’ behind in there.

I’ll admit, his insistence on getting every nook and cranny emptied out before we were to leave for the dealership started getting me a bit antsy. The fellow we were to meet up with had actually rescheduled the appointment twice the day before, pushing the time back by fifteen minutes each time with no input from me to request such a delay (although I immediately agreed to it each time), and even so, we left the house with less than ten minutes to spare before our latest scheduled appointment time. I was forced to apologize for not being properly punctual, although it could have been much worse; we had to skibble under a slowly-lowering railroad crossing gate to make even that much time up (although in my defense, I will point out that the light in front of the gate hadn’t gone beyond yellow until we were clear of both the tracks and the intersection, so it was a legal move, if a bit chancy).

That having been said, I won’t deny that there was a fair amount of stuff to clear out. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the rear door was frozen shut, thereby preventing us from easily getting to the portable lawn chairs and walking sticks I’ve had stowed in the trunk area. We eventually got them out, though, thanks to folding up one and another seat in the second and third rows of the vehicle; and now they’ve been placed back in the trunk of the new car for future use.

Meanwhile, the rest of the stuff we managed to salvage from the old car filled an entire box. Most of it was napkins (for use in wiping up after eating in transit – a common issue on road trips, but of little use otherwise) and vials of quarters and other change for tolls – not that we’ve needed those for ages, or will ever need again for that purpose – but there were other things that had been lost in there for some time that Daniel dredged up. A couple of baseball caps for when it would rain, and one of Chompers’ water dishes for when he would get thirsty in transit – we would pull over, and you would pour him a drink from your water bottle into this dish. Now, however, it was holding a dozen or so coins that had fallen under my seat.

I’d go on about how the process of purchasing this vehicle took longer than expected – between a second test drive, this time with Daniel (in which we inadvertently missed the entrance of the lot and wound up testing the backup camera pretty extensively), and the various legal documentation I had to sign to be able to drive the thing off the lot, we were there for nearly three hours – but that’s the sort of thing I guess everyone experiences when buying a new car. The excavation of the car itself proved to be more of an individual experience, since what we had in there would be unique to us.

Granted, most of it, we didn’t go through until we returned home, both from the dealership and more than a few other errands (yesterday being primary Tuesday – for all that’s worth, but at least we’ve done our civic duty – and our monthly coupons at Meijer being about to expire). In fact, as of this point, we’ve left the box itself go untouched for the day, and we’re not sure when we’ll get to it. But there are a few things that I have to comment upon.

Also under my seat, along with Chompers’ water dish, were a couple of rocks that you had snagged from the beach (if you could call it that – I could never get used to a ‘beach’ you couldn’t safely or comfortably walk around in bare feet) along Schoolhouse Bay on Middle Bass Island. I think that you were hoping to eventually fill our little rock garden in front of the house with these stones, but between one thing and another, nothing ever got out of the car.
On a more unexpected note, the rear console included, for whatever reason, a tuft of your hair that you probably pulled out of your hairbrush. You can see that, even after five years or more, it’s held onto the dye pretty well. I think this was in what you’d meant to use as a garbage bag, but it never got thrown out, only stuffed into the console and forgotten about. As this is the last find I have of something with your DNA incorporated in it, I’m keeping it, whether or not it might otherwise be considered junk.

So there were a few particular treasures that Daniel and I salvaged from the car before turning it in. And I realize that some of them might cause people to scratch their heads and wonder why, but understanding the story behind them, things might become a little clearer. Certainly you would understand, even about the hair, I shouldn’t wonder.

In any event, I’ve got to get on with the day, so I’ll ask you to once again keep an eye on us, and wish us luck as we do so. I’m sure we’re going to need it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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