The Contents of the Moth Man’s Truck
I read a lot (hang on, I’m going somewhere with this and it will get back to the implied subject of the title).
One of the best titles, in my opinion, of a short story is, “The Contents of the Dead Man’s Pockets.” I firs read the tale in some high school English textbook about a man who gets inadvertently trapped on a ledge. He crawled out the window to his upperstory apartment chasing a piece of paper where he has recorded customer observations, ciphered in his own private code, for several months. The window closes and locks behind him, and as he gazes out at the streets below, he contemplates his mortality.
He reasons the most ironic thing will be the strange suppositions people will come up with when all that is found on his person is a very worn piece of paper covered in gibberish.
Occasionally, when I’ve riffled through my pockets and found a strange combination of items (Kleenex, a single poker chip, half a box of Chiclets, and a Lego), my mind drifts back over the title of that memorable tale.
What explanation may be floated to rationalize such a strange conglomeration of items, that in actually, came together by chance?
Here’s the point. While traversing various highways, back roads, and camping sites, I come across a lot of trash. I know I have neither the time or charge to pickup all the trash (excepting a few weeks in June), but a combination of my anal retentive behavior and a desire to do just a little bit of good, I’ve often tossed an item or two in the back of my work truck.
When one pulls to the side of the road over 90 times a day, they will pickup quite a number of items, as well as occasionally encounter some stranger items.
This past Friday, I cleaned out the back of my truck in preparation for my marathon week. I won’t feel like taking much time to clean out my truck, and the sound of my ever expanding items add quite a bit to the rumbling sound when I’m taking particularly bumpy roads (and there’s nothing the sound of you pulling to a stop, and still having CLUNKS and BUMPS several seconds after you’ve ceased moving).
So, I emptied the trash, knickknacks, and other assorted items cluttering the back my truck. I didn’t stumble across a matching washer and drier, like I did last year, but I thought a recount of the various items I’ve lugged around might make for interesting reading.
Additionally, should I do this job again and acquire a similar collection, this should stifle any crazy hypothesizing should I, and my cache, come to an unfortunate end.
Note: This list has been edited down, because I didn’t feel like enumerating all the bottle, boxes, and cans; some items have flown and/or bounced out of the truck during my tenure; and some items were deemed “unidentifiable” when I was chucking them into a dumpster.
Enjoy.
Countless, plastic bottles, cups, and aluminum cans (with varying amounts of various beverages [mostly rain water] still sloshing inside them).
One plastic container that formerly held a $10.97 Wal-Mart watch (watch removed).
One deflated “PogoBall” – one of those bouncy balls surrounded by a plastic ring largely popular in the 80’s.
One rusted bike wheel (one would assume the front, but it was impossible to tell for sure).
A couple cigarette carton boxes (was found with part of inventory, smoked and discarded, but for sanitary reasons, and the fact they’re hard to pick up when wet, I choose to leave them behind).
One busted plastic rake with only 7 prongs.
One formerly green folding camp chair, now the combined color of green and river mud.
One corroded uni-ball pen.
One broken money belt (with neither an end or money to the belt).
Two hunks of flint rock (for later camping use).
Various shoes (retrieved from gravel bars, parking lots, and one from a tree. The style ranged from tennis shoes (with the subcategory of with and without soles), water/shower shoes, and one black, Hot Topic shoe with a 4-inch heel with a star cut through the center.
One lone leather work glove.
One rear blinker, complete with trailing lighting that sounded like a maraca whenever it was picked up.
One green “City of Sullivan” recycling container (borrowed from the Smith house to “drop off” a load a trimmed branches. For the record, I added the wood to a pile I personally created, so I figured it wasn’t that bad).
Sticks, leaves, and other plant parts.
One shredded street sign, torn into 2 pieces probably by a brush hog, that formerly read “Hoeman Street” (which is hilarious to lysdexic people).
Two gypsy moth traps, also rendered useless by brush hog and/or man: Washington Trap #35 and #107.
Various metal spikes (or merely spiked metal; it was difficult to determine).
One blue “Hightop Paving” business card torn into 4 pieces and found at the side of a recently paved road. Coincidence? I wish I knew.
One Missouri Trailer License that read “PCA 076.” If this is yours, it is still at the MDC Sullivan Area dumpster, buried beneath future and aforementioned items.
One severely rusted grill, formerly filled with rotting fish and a note for the finder of previously mentioned desiccated bounty. Even with coals and catch removed from grill (with the help of previously listed rake), the previous cargo’s smell remained prompting me to deposit the grill into the dumpster as quickly as speed limits allowed.
One slighted rusted, algae ringed shopping cart. Why someone stole the shopping cart, transported it to a gravel bar (where it’s wheels had little traction), and then abandoned it is beyond me. All I know for sure is that the “tinging” sound of a shopping cart bouncing around the back of your truck adds a triangle-like sound to the symphony created by the traversing of a back country dirt road.
Warning: transporting such items make reflect badly on your character. When the neighbor’s kid drives up with a shopping cart in the back of his pickup, and the city assessor drops by, one fears there will be a corresponding drop in property values.
However, one can know that they’re doing a good dead and working to make the world a better place; one piece at a time.
Besides, come tax day you’ll thank the neighbor’s kid for doing his part to reduce the amount due.
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