I said good bye to my 1995 Honda Civic today. My adjuster, Randy, called me this morning and told me, “I’ve judged the car to be a total loss. It wasn’t even close.” Dang. He had visited my car at Baron Von Frien’s autobody shop in Berkeley and judged it not worth repairing, a total loss. My car, my trusty little car for the last ten years, was sentenced to the scrap heap.
S.O. and I went down to Baron Von Frien’s to collect my possessions from my Honda. With a couple of white garbage bags and a cardboard box in tow, we began the task of sorting through the peculiar mix of junk and precious mementos that found its way inside my trunk, in the glove compartment and in random pockets and slots of my car.
The functional. Emergency car kit. Contents include jumper cables, flashlight, flares. Plastic, duffel bag with more car stuff. Bungee cords, maps, motor oil with funnel, towel. Extra box of organizational, wire cubes. Intended to bring some semblance of order to my closet in anticipation of the arrival of the S.O.’s stuff. The recreational. A variety of CDs earmarked for trade but never making it to Amoeba. A small representation includes Arrested Development’s 3 Years 5 Months & 2 Days in the Life of…. The System’s Don’t Disturb this Groove, Aswad’s Greatest Hits. More CDs that better represent my recent taste in music, ones I’m not embarrassed to admit I own. Joss Stone’s Mind, Body and Soul, the Isley Brother’s Greatest Hits, Jill Scott’s Beautifully Human. A Radio Shack brand tape to CD adapter, rendered useless when my car radio’s digital display went dim. A box cutter. A Philips head screwdriver.
The nutritional. A box of Lo-Carb Solutions protein bars, chocolate brownie flavored. Unopened. A box of Atkins Advantage bars, Mocha crisp flavored. Half-opened. Kept in the trunk of my car because of a need for a well-timed post-work, pre-workout snack. And, because I have, in the past, demonstrated poor judgement with chocolate-flavored items stored in my kitchen.
The sentimental. Renderings depicting Disney princesses, dolphins, seals, flowers and houses, me, rainbows and salmon dinners. Most common medium would be Crayola crayons and colored pencils. Artists include Samantha and Sydney, now ages nine and seven; works recovered from my car include pieces from their younger selves, as early as age 6 for Sam and age 4 for Syd. A coin purse shaped like a cat head from Olivia’s trip to Japan.
The recoverable. A factory model in-dash radio. A 6-CD changer mounted in the trunk. Two JBL front door side speakers. The S.O. has designs on these items, being as his car was stripped clean of any music-enabling equipment months ago. The screwdriver and box cutter came in quite handy.
The unexpected. Three pillows. A variety of used medical books. A microbiology textbook. A pocket guide on nursing. A green binder containing a study on cultural sensitivity in the Lao Community.
My S.O. says to toss his pillows. I find myself feeling a little relieved because I take this to mean he’s planning on sticking around for a while, and that pleases me. As I move the rest of his stuff into my “keep” box, I realize how lucky I am to have walked away from this accident essentially without a scratch. Wish I could say the same for my Honda.
