There are two types of people in this world: those who use analogies about two types of people in this world, and those of us who don’t. Wait. Nevermind.
As I was saying, I have a dirty car. Well, dirty is an understatement. To hear my wife describe it, my car is some combination of filthy, disgusting, and nasty. I don’t disagree necessarily with any of those descriptors; I’ve accepted the fact that my car would probably fail a city health inspection. I’m just not hung up on my vehicles cleanliness since I view my car only as a means of transportation and not a status symbol. Not that driving a surgically clean Honda Civic would offer much in the way of status.
My car serves one and only one purpose: to transport me to and from work every day. I have a rather long commute so I often bring a beverage or snack with me for the ride. Since having a passenger in the car with me is about as rare as Paris Hilton wearing underwear in public, I’ve taken to using the passenger side floorboard as a ‘temporary’ wastebasket. Of course the intent is to clean out the floorboard every day or so, but I’ve been known to miss a day or two.
Once the trash pile reaches a certain height, I rationalize that one more empty Coke Zero can on the pile won’t make much of a difference, so I add one. And another. And another. A week or so later the pile has grown large enough to develop a defined crest. This means that the act cleaning out the floorboard has moved from being a quick, simple task to a time consuming chore. I like to think I’m a busy man, so I put off tackling the chore for as long as I can, all the while the pile continues to grow out of control. When the time finally comes to clean out the car, I usually lay an empty trashcan on the ground beside the passenger door. That way I catch the majority of the avalanche in the can when I throw the door open. I’m not proud of it, it’s just what I’ve grown accustomed to doing.
I didn’t always have a dirty car; there was a brief period in my life when I had a dirty truck. Having a dirty truck is forgivable if the dirt is acquired while in the act of manly outdoor activities. A little mud on your truck as a result of tending the herd on the back forty, offloading ATVs, or camping in the Sierra Nevadas is acceptable because it‘s considered man dirt. Man dirt is dirt of honor, the stuff of folklore and Toby Keith songs. My dirty truck was the result of spilled lattes and salted highways in the winter, aka wuss dirt.
My truck is probably what first made me comfortable with the idea of driving a vehicle that’s in a perpetual state of filth. I made the mistake of purchasing a truck with a black exterior, and black paint shows everything. Hydrogen molecules are visible to the naked eye when placed on the hood of a black car. Because no amount of effort (or at least no amount of effort I was willing to exert) would result in a clean vehicle, I just quit trying.
I learned my lesson with the black paintjob. When I sought out to purchase my current car, I specifically looked for a silver vehicle. What black paint reveals, silver paint conceals. Dirt, scratches, and small dents are practically invisible on a silver car. So famous is silver paint’s ability to hide things, a prominent theory with the FBI regarding the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa is that he’s buried between coats of paint on the left rear quarter panel of a 1976 Georgian Silver Cadillac El Dorado.
Recently my dirty car has started to cause problems, surprisingly not because of the accumulating colonies of mold and bacteria on the floorboard. I asked my oldest daughter to clean her room the other day, to which she remarked how clean her room was in comparison to my car. In her eyes, I was creating a double standard since I allowed my car to be so messy while her room was expected to be neat and tidy. Shouldn’t the rules that apply to her also apply to me?
On second thought, her room’s not that bad. It can probably wait another day.
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Comments: 39
When I worked in an office, I was always the one that drove our group to lunch. My floorboards were free of debris and the seats clean. While others had "no room" because of all of the "crap" in their cars, I had no such excuse.
Tell you daughter, you are saving the family money by having a dirty car; you aren't driving everyone to lunch everyday. There's a reason for your dirty car, dang it! She must clean up her room until she can demonstrate the fiscal advantages of not doing so. She will either clean it up or come up with a presentation full of pie charts pleading her case. Either way, clean room kid or creative thinking kid, it's a win for you.
Susan, I like the cut of your jib.
Jenn, the resulting cacophony of cascading popcans is much more appealing than the swish that accompanies the dumping of piles of ash and cigarette butts.
Julia, I must meet your husband and shake his hand. Truly, he is a master.
maybe you could have a garbage can in the front seat and three recycling bins in the back seat, I would sugest a compost bin, but i just don't think thats a good idea.
I think that if my daughter commented on the cleanliness of my car, she would be cleaning it for me later.
Probably smells better than some hitchhikers I've picked up in the past, anyway.
And as for your daughter pointing out your double standards, well, that's what kids are for. What parents are for is to create the double standards for their kids to get upset over. This way they learn that life is unfair, the people that make the rules hardly ever live by them, and they'll get nowhere in life if they have a dirty bedroom, so nyah, nyah, nyah nyah, nyah...
Don't blame yourself for your pile of Coke Zero cans. Your daughter should understand that men are genetically engineered to BUILD. They're not responsible for what they build.
I'm fascinated by your theory of silver as a cover-all and it is a color in the eight-crayon Crayola box that has been approved for male use. Let me take it a step further: Men should wear silver clothes so pizza and beer stains don't show. We'd save a pile of washing machine quarters (If, like me, you're not allowed to use the one in the house) and, STEP ASIDE METROSEXUALS, make room for the Superherosexual!
These people would limp their cars into our garage, literally dragging a rear quarter on the pavement with the complaint "It kinda pulls to the left".
Birdie, thanks for the feature. I'm glad you enjoyed my article (hopefully it was a refreshing read after a long day at the school).
Superherosexual? John, I believe you've just came up with the perfect title for my autobiography.
Greg, so true about rotating the trash. Though I've found that the proper consistency of cans, wrappers, and cups can create a pile that is self turning (with the help of a few abrupt stops and hard turns).
some people are just such neat freaks.
I loved John's comment about the silver clothes for men. Why worry about clothes at all? There's always alumonium foil! Once you are all dressed for it, we could save you guys off to space! What say?
10 from a fellow car slob!