Do car interiors have the equivalent of black holes in space?
If you own a car for long enough and you are not a neat freak, it will inevitably eat things like pens and coins, only to disgorge them months or even years later.
I know this from several recent forays into the darker recesses of my aged Toyota. It conspires with a particular pair of trousers, whose pockets are just at the right angle to disgorge their contents between the driver’s seat and the transmission tunnel, to steal my personal possessions.
Sometimes I’ll hear the soft thud or metallic tinkle of a wallet or keys sliding into this abyss, but often I don’t notice their absence for hours, then have a panic attack, patting empty pockets, before frantically searching outdoor jackets and then the house before realizing that the things I want are somewhere in the car.
Awaiting Rescue in the Usual Place
Sometimes they will sit patiently waiting to be rescued, but often they go walkabout. Finding them involves contortions that do terrible things to my spine, or result in howls of pain as fingers are jammed into spaces where no man, or woman, should go. During the course of these searches I will inevitably kneel on something hard, or sharp, resulting in a fruity verbal outburst.
On other occasions, my fingers will close round something sticky and furry; that might once have been a boiled sweet wrapper, or indeed a boiled sweet, but is now capable of supporting life. It will inevitably leave a sugary residue that will need a nailbrush to remove. Ugh!
It’s not all bad news though. The lockers at my local swimming pool take £1 coins, and the one I’m using at the moment was discovered jammed beneath a seat runner and had to be more or less chiselled out with a screwdriver. I must have unearthed enough car-bound coins to pay for the mixed blessing of a motorway service’s sandwich, a notion that is oddly satisfying.
Not long ago I found an iPod mini that I’d forgotten I’d ever owned, hidden under a rubber floor matt. I’m charging it up at the moment, and am intrigued at the prospect of listening to the music it contains, which has also slipped my mind. Frustration or delayed gratification? Discuss.