| Car Clutter Clues | Toronto Star Wheels - 04/28/01 | |
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Glove compartment surveys are for wimps. Those cutesy fluff pieces, that purport to reveal insightful clues into a car owner's psyche by checking out the contents of their glove compartment, are bogus. Glove compartments simply do not have the square footage necessary to store anything important, let alone insightful. Only useless, long-forgotten stuff gets tossed into that black hole we call a glove box.
Now if you really want to learn something about a person via their automobile, just take a peek at the interior of their car. Therein lies the real story. The flotsam and jetsam of everyday life scattered about the inside of a vehicle is the true reflection of its owner. For example, one can instantly recognize a businessperson's office on wheels by the briefcase, travel mug, worn map, speaker phone, half rolls of breath mints and antacids, and the suit jacket hung neatly in the back. Then there's the teen slobmobile with it's layers of fast food garbage composting on the floor, bridal garter or handcuffs dangling from the rearview, and stereo speakers installed in every conceivable crevice. But none tells the story quite so well as the interior of a family car. Easy to spot, the long-suffering family auto is filled to it's roof rack with all the paraphernalia deemed necessary for transporting contented kids. It's a mobile nursery, sports locker and toy box all rolled into one. Who, other than a family car owner, would be caught dead with an interior inventory that includes: an open box of dried-up wet wipes, a booster seat, a leaky drinking box, one slightly tattered doll, a half-eaten lollypop embedded in the carpet, diapers, filthy interior windows, and dented, soiled upholster, all sprinkled with a generous helping of stale Cheerios. This car of course belongs to a harried parent with a baby, a toddler and a dog. Proof lies in the telltale upholstery ruts, caused by the constant loading and unloading of the infant car seat. The stains? A kid-induced mixture of drool and fruit juice, while the smeary windows are further evidence of sticky little fingers and dog slobber. Although the chew marks on dolly's nose could be credited to either child or dog, the footprints on the seatbacks and the melted crayons jammed into the ashtray definitely scream "kids". Auto interior investigation is such an exact science that by simply observing the cars contents, one can actually pinpoint precisely which stage of family life a car owner is currently enjoying. For as a family matures, so too does their car clutter. In time, floor litter no longer consists of stuffed animals and stray blankies, but rather orphaned mittens, soccer shin pads, and overdue library books. Teething rings and rattles turn into Barbie Dolls and mountains of Lego, which in turn give way to CD players and Game Boys. Seventeen and Mad magazines substitute for Blue's Clues picture books; super-sized take-out trash for Happy Meal toys. Where once the driver franticly hunted for a lost soother, now it's a systematic search for a missing orthodontic retainer. Howls of protest about car seats and booster chairs evolve into sullen complaints of insufficient backseat room from lanky, and still-growing, young adults. The lingering odour of past-its-prime Pampers is swapped for eau d'hockey bag. And for your listening pleasure, the saccharin strains of Barney are replaced with the loud, pulsating rhythms of Eminem. It's true, some naive, car-proud parents do actually try to hide behind the illusion of a shiny, pristine exterior. But one glance at the car's interior, with it's Pokemon pillows and armies of action figures, and that illusion is quickly shattered, firmly establishing that this is indeed a family car and will be for a long, long time. |
