I have habit of letting junk accumulate in my car. I wouldn’t say I’m a pack rat, I’m just busy and when on the go, toss everything in my back seat, not to be thought of until several months later when I can’t stand sitting among the clutter anymore.
    I didn’t think about said junk until a couple weeks ago when I had to drop my car at a vehicle repair shop to get my bumper fixed.
    I was embarrassed dropping it off in such a filthy condition, but I figured they were used to it. When I picked it up 10 days later, to my horror, they had actually cleaned the inside of my car.
    “Horror,” I guess, is too strong of a word, because I was actually very happy they cleaned it, I just couldn’t stop thinking about what you can gather about a person from what they keep in their car.
    They must have thought I completely live on Diet Coke and Marlboro Reds. Empty packs of cigarettes and cans lined the floor like a carpet. Half full cans of frozen soda balanced in the center console – cans I swore I would do something with at my next stop.
    There were fast food bags strewn about – aha, so she does subsist on more than that.
    Piles of newspapers that were meant to make it to my apartment laid in my back seat and window, the pages stiffened from the cold.  The number, I would think, was just too many for a regular reader of the medium to have in their car.
    In the back seat was a framed painting of a flock of lambs – which again, I had all intention of bringing inside. I think there was more lamb paraphernalia in there too, which might seem odd and obsessive, but makes sense because once married, Lamb will be my last name.
    There weren’t many other items they saved, except a neon green T-shirt from Florida, a vehicle break-down kit, an empty reporter’s notebook, an ice scraper and a bunch of dead pens.
    I figured they didn’t go through the junk too carefully, but as I drove away, swearing I would keep my car clean, I noticed something tucked in the center console.
    It was a notice for a bill from the Maine Turnpike Authority. The bill is paid, but they apparently went through everything carefully enough to see that bill and realize I used to be a toll skipper. I’m reformed, I swear.
    They probably thought I was an unorganized person, which I can say isn’t true. I guess while I can say I am organized at work and in my home life, it’s the remnants from those two beings that end up in my car.
    It all made me feel somewhat exposed, but again, I was happy they cleaned my car. I rarely clean it in the winter, it’s just too cold, and they got dirt out of crevices I never dared go before, so it’s good and next time I need work done, I think I’ll go through my car with a trash bag first.
                    – Molly Lovell