In a Garage by the Motorway

Now that we have the new car, a major task lies before me, cleaning out the garage so that we can use it for vehicles rather than just storage. After living together for 16 years, the wife and I have accumulated a lot of useless shit. Luckily, we’ve moved a dozen times, so most of that stuff has been donated to Goodwill or tossed into a landfill (Sorry Jason). Unfortunately, I still have those four or five boxes that I can’t bring myself to let go.

Box #1 – Keeper!
I have a box full of childhood trophies that impresses no one but me. “Wow Erik, you won first place in baseball, soccer and football in 1984, you sure were quite the athlete. Now I bet you couldn’t run a hundred yards without your wife having her finger on the final 1 in 9-1-1.”. Of course I can tell Maggie when she gets older, “When I was a kid we actually had to win something to get a trophy, not like this everybody wins bullshit that goes on today.” I think the weakest award I have is a medal that I won in cub scouts for running 10 yards and hammering a nail into a board. I came in third place. That’s right folks, I am a bronze medal winner in the short run / basic carpentry event for 10 year olds, now kneel before me and kiss my ring bitches!

Box#2 – See ya!
I have a box full of pants in various sizes. In fact I’m pretty sure that I have the standard issue khaki Dockers in sizes 34, 36, 38 and 40. Unless I somehow get stranded on a desert island or acquire a severe illness, my ass will not be seeing the inside of size 34 pants in this lifetime. I’ve moved this “brotherhood of the traveling pants” box at least four times, including a trek across the country. It’s time to put an end to this madness, and kick these “skinny man pants” and my dreams of being a smaller human being, to the donation box.

Box #3 – Reluctantly Toss!
I have a box of music memorabilia; tour books, box sets, autographed pictures etc… This shit would be the bees knees if I were 16 and lived in my parents basement, but since I have a job, a wife, and a kid, these treasures will never see the light of day. Before our move back East, I got rid of all of my CD jewel cases, which was tough. Then, I tossed my concert T-Shirt collection that included, a bitchin’ stone-washed Van Halen, a smokin’ tie-dyed Robert Plant and the crème de la crème a three-quarter sleeved Rush, Power Windows bootleg t-shirt that I bought in the parking lot of my first concert for $10. If I can get rid of my first concert T, then maybe it will be OK if I toss my autographed Collect Soul picture. “Whoooooaaaa, heaven let your light shine down, whoooooaaaa, we’ll be lucky to get a gig when the state fair comes to town…”

Box #4 – Reluctantly Keep!
This one has haunted me for years, but there’s no good way to tell your wife, and her most generous family, that several ceramic music boxes are only cool to people who were alive before the Wright brothers set up shop in North Carolina. I have been hauling this box of assorted collectors plates and music boxes for a solid 15 years. Every time we move or I go into the garage to do some organization I run into this box, and like an old rival we stare at each other, and I swear the ceramic figures have a “fuck you dude, you can’t touch us” look in their eyes. They know I can’t “misplace” them without incurring the McMahon wrath, so they just sit there with their diplomatic immunity and taunt me from their stupid Styrofoam boxes that jingle some outdated sentimental tune whenever you even think of touching them.

Throw in several boxes of Steelers collectibles, X-mas decorations, and tons of baby items and trying to make space in a one car garage for an actual vehicle will be like solving a Rubik’s cube. I’ve put these boxes in more configurations than an average game of Tetris and I still can’t clear the board. Now that I’ve given you two references to obsolete games, I’m going to drink some beers sit in the middle of a pile of boxes and read my Pink Floyd Box Set booklet one last time.