Until recently, I drove a Volkswagen station wagon. It was white. I named her Hedwig, after Harry Potter’s white owl.
Sadly, like the owl, my car died in a shocking plot twist.
My VW got caught up in the massive international scandal after the company got caught cheating on emissions tests for its diesel engines.
I loved my Volkswagen. It was fun to drive. The diesel engine was so loud you could hear me coming from blocks away. It got fabulous gas mileage — while busily spewing poisonous levels of pollution into the air.
As part of a class-action settlement, Volkswagen offered to buy back my car.
Which meant I had to clean it out.
It had been a few years.
Here’s what I found:
Two blank notebooks, stuck together after an apparent coffee accident sometime in the distant past.
A piece of red plastic that I hope wasn’t supposed to be on my taillight.
A Hampton Inn coupon that expired in 2013.
Four Sonic straws.
Two plastic spoons.
Two plastic forks.
Handful of paper napkins.
Two tire pressure gauges (I’d been wondering where those were).
One pair of purple magic gloves. (They’re magic because they’re super-stretchy and can fit just about anybody. In a rare display of organizational skills, the gloves were in the glove compartment.)
One pair of 3D movie glasses.
Two sunglass lenses (but no sunglass frames).
Shards of plastic from 19 shattered CD cases.
Three empty candy wrappers.
One half-eaten energy bar (I shudder to think how long this had been hiding in the back seat cupholder).
More paper napkins.
One Alabama road map (folded incorrectly).
One Texas road map (folded incorrectly).
One Tennessee road map (folded incorrectly).
One U.S. road atlas (front and back cover missing, pages for Texas and Alabama missing). (Archeologists would date the above items to the late 20th century, before the invention of Google Maps.)
Two traffic sign bingo cards. (Hey, now that my kids are old enough to drive, I can play this!)
Two hotel key cards.
More paper napkins.
One umbrella (large).
One umbrella (small).
One fuzzy blanket.
One Pillow Pet (elephant-shaped).
Two tennis rackets.
Two sets of jumper cables.
One heavy-duty extension cord.
One string of Christmas lights.
I don’t know what kind of party I was planning to throw with all these things, but I hate that I missed it.
Lisa Davis is Features Editor of The Anniston Star. Contact her at 256-235-3555 or firstname.lastname@example.org.