Citizen of Procrasti-Nation

I had a minivan.

Well, technically I still have a minivan - until the guy from the auto salvage company gets here with his wrecker, that is. Since the grammar rules for future-past tense* have yet to be devised, we’ll simply pretend that it has already been hauled away.

The minivan was the first car that I ever truly drove to death. It probably could be revived, but like old Mr. Notlob**, it had no ailment that an expensive repair job could not prolong. When I got the minivan, it already had over 90,000 miles on it. Over the next fifty thousand miles, things fell off, things shorted out, things deteriorated, and, of course, things suffered the wrath that only little children can wreak upon the passenger compartment of an automobile. The engine was showing signs of breakdown and, to make matters worse, I got into a fender bender in New York City.

Duck tape (yes, I’m old-school) worked to put the damaged headlight back into place, but in order to pass my next state vehicle inspection I needed at least $1,500 in repairs to the body and engine. The van would not have been worth $1,500 in good driving condition - now it's not even in legal driving condition. Were I to sell it, I would lose money.

With many, many thanks to my family, I was able to acquire a replacement vehicle. I parked the minivan in an out-of-the-way spot in my apartment complex lot; all that was needed was to clean it out and find some schlep to take it off my hands.

That was a year ago. I just got cleaned it out today.

Citizen of Procrasti-Nation? Heck, I’d be the ambassador, if they’d ever getting around to appointing one.

Today was relatively productive, as far as minivan-related activities go. I have already turned the plates back in to the DMV (or MVS, as it’s known in Jersese), I found the title buried in a stack of papers that I have been putting off going through, I took the five bags of clothing and toy donations that have been sitting in the back of the van all this time to Goodwill, and found someone to take the van as-is. Plus, I cleaned out the miscellaneous stuff (Yes. Ms N, I mean trash – for the most part).

I never throw away any container without first going through it. As a recovering packrat, I know that things of value can be literally anywhere. Of course, that means that I have to do the whole “going through it” part. (The Procrasti-Nation anthem would be playing in the background right now, were we ever to get around to writing it.) Find me a container where I can set a bunch of stuff aside “for later” and I become Mr. Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout***. The minivan became one such container.

The minivan has sat in that one spot for an entire year – a year that included everything from freezing to 100+ degree days. The windows were closed, so it was sealed. This morning I opened the vault … if only I had a camera crew****.

And I was right – there were things of value mixed in with the debris. There were some gift cards, some papers I needed to keep, a cassette tape I have been looking for, and my old passport. One thing I thankfully did not find was a giant mutant venomous spider – or any other bug, for that matter. Either the van was sealed well enough or the bugs were just scared to venture in.

Yet there was another finding that left me befuddled. I keep my bread in the refrigerator because if I don’t it isn’t long before I have a penicillin factory. A year after setting the van aside, I came across a partially eaten hot dog – with bun – in a plastic Wawa container. The hot dog looked like bad jerky, but the bun was still its original shape (including finger indentations and bite marks) and color.

Three thoughts came to mind today. First, I need to stop procrastinating … starting next week. Second, I need to see if Wawa makes those containers in loaf-of-bread size.

And finally, what the hell is in those buns?

* Douglas Adams fans know what I mean
** Remember him, Monty Python fans?
*** For the Shel Silverstein fans out there
****Does Geraldo Rivera have any fans?