Chekov's Garage

My wife hates my inability to throw away seemingly useless items. My garage is filled with these things. There’s a 4x8 piece of cardboard that covered our patio table while it was in the box. There are various curtain rods that serve no purpose. From the standpoint of an outside observer, these items are clutter, junk, refuse, or signs that I may be a hoarder. All of these are true but, though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.

Now, I am a product of my upbringing. My father is famous for repurposing useless items into ‘wonderful things’. He built an entire charcoal grill out of an old lawnmower, 55 gallon drum, swing set, and countertops. To that point, he also built a forge out of an old charcoal grill and a ShopVac.  I may have mentioned it before.

Additionally, I spent a great deal of my childhood playing old school text adventure games where you would acquire items, that held no obvious value, only to use them later on in a crucial part of a quest. A more up to date example would be the envelope of items that Ben Affleck receives in the movie Paycheck.

Still, regardless of the value of an item, I can eventually find a use for it. It may not be pretty or ideal, but it does the trick. I often find myself wishing I had something that I had already thrown away whenever I’m trying to patch something in the house. “If we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.”

And so the torch gets passed to another generation, as I found my three year old doing some decorating for Easter. She felt the need to hang her own decorations, such as hanging a triangle (musical instrument) on the handles of our hutch and a square of toilet paper (unused, thankfully) on a nail in our living room wall.

But what impressed me most was an empty Rogurt box hanging from another nail. It was slated to be put into the trash, once I actually replaced the full trash bag with an empty one, that is. But, sitting on the counter, she eyed it and saw a purpose for it. Unfortunately, it had no way of being hung on the nail, so she found a way to make it work. She took a Silly Bandz, wrapped it around the cardboard lid flap and then hung the entire box on the nail, using the Silly Bandz to hang it on the nail.

My wife was prepared to throw it away until she noticed how my daughter had managed to hang it. She neither intervened nor helped out daughter figure out how to solve the hanging problem.

Simply left to her own devices, a three year old solved a design problem. She’s either destined to pursue a career in engineering or be a useful hoarder like her father and grandfather.

The Great American Vacationer

I get it now. I understand my Father. Well, I understand some of his motives, anyway. The man may have done some strange things while I was growing up but yet, though this be madness, there is method in’t. Now, your typical everyday American nuclear family with its 2.4 kids customarily takes a vacation during the summer. I know there are those that skip the idea whether it be a monetary issue or whatever, but for the most part, a family vacation is woven into that tapestry of Americana upheld by the our forefathers like Clark W. Griswold.

However, for as many summers that I can remember going on vacation there were twice as many when we did not. For awhile, I thought we always went somewhere each summer but the gaps in my memory kind of blended together forming this one long running vacation that lasted three or four years. That’s the thing about being a kid. You tend to think a week’s vacation, lasts a lot longer than it really does. Whereas adults find themselves getting completely unpacked and settled only to get back in the car and head for home.

So, there he is, my Father, the master packer of a truck or car or camper and he doesn’t like to go on vacations. Why? These reasons only became clear to me in the last ten years. When I worked my previous position, I was responsible for day to day activities regarding customers individual events. I could go away for a week, return, and the work would have been done while I was gone. Now, I have a more long term responsibility towards my customers and that means that whatever work I leave will ultimately be there when I return. I’m not really getting away from it all, as it were. My Father understood this.

He’s in insurance and those people that you build up relationships with over 30 years tend to feel comfortable calling you at home and it would be nothing for me, as a preteen, to answer the phone from someone who had just been in a car accident or had a tree fall on their house and write down all the particulars to be handed off to my Dad. Usually he was away at some other activity whether it be Lions Club, the Municipal Authority, or helping to take care of the family farm where he grew up with his brother. Even though we were technologically behind with cordless phones and answering machines, there would be a stack of messages for him when he got back to the office after our trip. It became more of a hassle to go away for a week, then it would to just stay home.

But what is the fun in that? Anybody can spend a week at the PorchView Resort but only the bravest few will attempt to wrangle a family together and plan a trip that will go down in the annals of recreational escapes. Again, my Father understood this concept.

It’s hard enough coordinating a weekend at home with a two year old let alone having three kids between the ages of 10 and 20 to deal with in terms of travel. First of all, where the hell are you going to put them? We didn’t have a minivan in those days. We had a Chevy Custom Deluxe with a few slight modifications in the form of a homemade insert that my Dad made for the bed of the truck that could act as two bench seats with a table or fold down into a full sized bed. In those days, no one thought about safety issues and the three of us kids would sit in the back of the truck for seven to ten hours playing Tiger electronic football or Trivial Pursuit.

As my siblings got older, we could downgrade to the family sedan since they opted to drive themselves in order to head along with their friends to another destination afterwards. While my parents did show concern over having another vehicle drive on major highways to other states by persons under the age of 25, being in insurance after all, they weren’t paying for gas so they didn’t mind as much. It saved them money having to take a vehicle with less fuel efficiency. Still, there is a lot of planning involved. What do you take? What can you get there? What do you really need? Are you even going to need slacks and a nice shirt? I tend to come from the school of thought of packing 5% extra clothes, 10% extra underwear, one pair of jeans.

Then there is what you leave behind. What about someone to conduct mail pickup, look after the yard, any pets you might have, and or even just leaving an empty house in general? The possibilities are endless for someone who thinks too much about the negative. But it does happen. Freak accidents cause your house to become damaged, a pet to escape, anything and everything can happen while you are supposed to be relaxing.

So, yeah, my father didn’t like taking vacations and now I am heading in that direction. I am currently getting ready to head for the Outer Banks and that in itself is always packed with drama. The last two times I was there I faced a hurricane and some strange dead alien looking creature on top of a cigarette vending machine. To add to the mix is the addition of my two year old daughter. This will be her first trip to the beach. This could totally throw her world into chaos and for that matter, ours.

The trip prep is crucial. We have to have the house ready for a week of no one really taking care of it. We need to shop, of course, for new things to drag 600 miles away to use at the beach and then back home, which will conclude their usage. For the next trip will probably buy more of the same forgetting that we already have those items, much like Christmas lights. You have to go online and check out all the activities in the area and order a beach guide so you can do your homework. And of course, for every road trip, you have to have a soundtrack and I’ve been trying to update my iPod for this year. I hope you kids see what a silly waste of resources this is.

Then, there is my in-laws. My wife’s sister is getting married on the beach, which is what prompted this trip. They are travelling separate but I will have my wife’s parents with us in a house. I’ve had to work on securing a rental vehicle in order to take all of us. I’ve had trouble explaining to rental agencies that an SUV won’t cut it because while I have only five passengers, I have a two year old whose Earthly possessions take up a lot of space. Also, we need to make allowances for my Mother-in-Law who recently had brain surgery and has to keep her feet elevated to alleviate swelling and we’ll be stopping periodically to keep her from having issues with blood clots.

I’ve had to find a house that will fit our budget and our needs. My Father-in-Law has an artificial hip and will need to have close access to the beach and amenities at the house. I have to take into account safety for my daughter, crib arrangements, chair and umbrella rentals. These are all the things you need to consider when taking a large group to the beach.

After a whole week of that, I will come home and then have to pick up the pieces of the outside chores as well as some inside. Granted, we are having someone house sit so out cats should be in good hands but I don’t expect anyone to have to cut my grass. My hill is a test in Eustachianary fortitude as well as a test of footing.

Still, I will do it and I will enjoy it. I probably put ten times more effort into the planning of this than is necessary. I give myself heartburn and ulcers and white knuckle my way through 12 hours of bickering and screaming for fun. I will listen to people complain about issues that are so far away from being important because they don’t ultimately understand that this is supposed to be fun and somewhat of an escape from suburbia. Why? Because I am the Great American Vacationer, like my Father before me. We are a dying breed. We must preserve our heritage and continue to do things the way our ancestors have for decades. This above all: To thine own self be true.

How to pack a life in a car

It seems rather premature to discuss vacations and road trips when outside my window I still see salt covered cars and ice dunes in the parking lot. However, let us turn our thoughts towards warmer weather and packing the car for trips. You don't have any choice, so just sit down and stop bugging your sister or I'll turn this blog around so, help me, I swear.

As I look at what it takes to go anywhere with my eight month old, I'm reminded that this is payback for my parents. They, of course, packed all of us kids into a truck or a station wagon for long trips to the beach and to college. I considered my Father a master packer, being able to utilize every available space in the vehicle for storage of our stuff. I took that same approach when purchasing a replacement vehicle for limping 97' Chevy Cavalier three years ago. While my younger, less experienced packer of a wife, wanted a car with a good sound system. She even went as far as to suggest the ability to install extra speakers. That way, we could blast our greatest hits of Snoop Dogg and Maroon 5. After patting her on her head and chuckling at her naivety, I reminded her that, even though this would eventually become her car after we have a child, she would need the extra space for a car seat and everything the child owns.

Back to my Father. The man drove a Chevy Custom Deluxe Truck with a cap on the back. This truck had seen it all. When we went camping, it was able to tow a camper that contained all of our stuff, yet the cab of the truck could not contain all of their kids. My Dad became the inventor of the wonderful thing, which I thought was me, until the age of ten. The wonderful thing is simply a metaphor for something that previously existed in nature as some other sort of object or objects which have been disassembled and rebuilt into another functional object for which it was not originally designed for. One example of the wonderful thing was a charcoal grill built entirely out of a 55 gallon drum, lawnmower wheels, my childhood swing set, and counter top remnants. This fully functioning grill gave my Dad backyard supremacy in the realm of burger and hot dog grilling, allowing him to simultaneously cook for an entire graduation party without having to reload the grill. Another example of a wonderful thing was a homemade forge constructed out of a kettle grill and a shop vac that he used to build other wonderful things.

The most wonderful thing my Father built was an insert for that Custom Deluxe. The components for the insert have been regarded as a trade secret but I can tell you that part of it was fashioned from an old table top. The insert mirrored the functionality of the eating table in the camper. By day, the table and its bench seats served as a place to eat breakfast and play Pit and UNO. By night, it transformed and became a bed for my sister. Just like the camper, the insert slash wonderful thing was more than meets the eye. It also consisted of two bench seats that could be opened up for storage and a table post affixed to a base that slid into the bed of the truck. On long trips it served as a place to store three adolescent kids, playing Trouble. You could only play Trouble in the back of the truck, because all the pieces fit securely into holes on the board and the die was encased in the "Pop-O-Matic" container. We tried playing Trivial Pursuit once but some dumbass cut my Dad off on I-95 and cards flew everywhere. We no longer can finish the game as the pink game piece, nor will we ever find out how many cherubs are located on the game board. (In case you wondered, there's actually 19. Two on either side of every "wedge" square, six around the hub in the middle, and one in a pink category square somewhere on the board. But, I digress. ) By night, the post could be removed and the table top positioned in between the bench seats. All four cushions came together to form the mattress. This is where my brother slept. Where did I sleep? There was a bunk right above the couch in the camper that I wedged myself into for about 4 years until I kept banging my head on the ceiling getting in and out.

The 1980 Chevy Custom Deluxe

Alas, the insert was laid to rest along with the truck when my father had replaced the Custom Deluxe with a Dodge Ram in the early 90's. The Dodge also got some packing use out of it when I started college. For some unknown reason, I felt the need to move all my Earthly possessions with me to South Carolina where I was enrolled at Coastal Carolina University. Hey, you never know when you might need something and being 12 hours away didn't help. My father managed to pack everything I owned including another wonderful thing in the form of a headboard with shelves. This technically wasn't a wonderful thing, but considering that it used to be a tree, let's not split hairs. The cushions from the old insert survived the transition from Chevy to Dodge and I rode the entire 12 hours on them in the back of the truck in a space that reminded me of the bunk from the camper. Funny thing about traveling south in the back of a truck. If you leave home wearing shorts, you arrive wearing shorts. I transferred to the University of Pittsburgh in January of 1994, and found myself wearing shorts when we left Mytle Beach, and then having to put on more layers somewhere around Virginia after dark.

A 1984 Pontiac Firebird similar to mine

College moves and desertion of an apartment in under three hours aside, my father was able to pack a car or a truck to the hilt, never necessitating the need for more than one trip. This is something I have studied and tried to hone as a marketable skill. My first car, a 1984 Pontiac Firebird didn't really allow for a lot of trunk space, but the "Plugger" in me decided that I would not be deterred by such obstacles. In 1994, I packed enough stuff for myself and my girlfriend to take a vacation to Ocean City, Maryland. For anyone who has ever owned a 80's model Firebird knows it has a shallow trunk with a big hump between it and the back seat. Without sacrificing visibility out of the rear window, I managed to pack for a week long trip. My second car was, of course, my Chevy Cavalier. I loved this car for two reasons. Aside from some starter problems, it never let me down in getting from Point A to Point B. I drove that car everywhere. Staring from my home in Southwestern Pennsylvania, it went to Ohio, New York, West Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Canada. Secondly, it had a fold down bench seat in the back which allowed for great packing possibilities. Again, I managed to pack enough stuff for a week's vacation without sacrificing needed visibility. When I bought my first Christmas tree (It was artificial as I am allergic) the box, containing the seven foot spruce, slid smoothly into the trunk and onto the folded down back seat. When I bought my first 32 inch television, it fit in between the back seat and trunk laying face down on a blanket to guard the screen. Unfortunately, I had to remove the set from the packing box as it did not fit in the car whole. Still, I managed to do it.

1997 Chevy Cavalier

In 2005, after nearly 150 thousand miles and a blown head gasket, I sadly said goodbye to my Cavalier in favor of my new car, a Malibu Maxx. This five door sweetie allows me hatch functionality with 60/40 split fold down bench seats in the back and a fold down passenger seat for hauling long items. I've yet to max out the storage space even with the little one.

2005 Chevy Malibu Maxx

While, I revel in my accomplishment of being a master packer, I take no credit as I was taught by the best. However, I'm sure I'll be faced with challenges in packing strategy in the future as I will have to now pack for three people to go to the beach, losing a portion of my coveted backseat to a car seat. Not to mention having to eventually pack the entire life of my kids when they go to college. By then, I will have moved on to another vehicle, but will always keep an eye on how much storage space comes with my purchase. Perhaps I will echo my Father's creative side and construct some sort of enhancement for maximization of minimal space. After all, I want to make sure I have lots of space to move my wonderful things from point A to point B.