Midwest Memo
Tidy
by Alan Shultz

The black Saab convertible in front of me and I were inching along in traffic when the Saab abruptly pulled out of line and over into the opposite lane of traffic. The oncoming lane was empty so I figured the brunette with the long curly tussles was going to cheat and sneak ahead of some others idling in front of her.

Instead, the Saab pulled up close alongside a roadside trash barrel. There she proceeded to do a little late in the year car spring cleaning. Over her door and into the barrel she tossed a serious quantity of newspapers, crumpled fast food bags and other unidentifiable and assorted trash. Before I knew it, she revved her engine, shifted gears and effortlessly maneuvered back into the proper lane and back in with those of us still waiting to move forward in line.

I don't know who it was who put that first open trash barrel outside for us motorists to use. But car drivers and passengers alike everywhere owe him or her a huge heap of thanks and credit for keeping our cars out of the scrutiny of the local health department.

Over the years I've grown to expect a garage container outside just about every public establishment I frequent. This is especially true when I fill the car at the gas station. Part of my normal routine while the pump is running is to conduct a fairly extensive trash purge. I fling open the doors one by one and rummage under, around and between the seats for the paper cups, candy wrappers, plastic drink bottles, junk mail, newspapers and assorted clutter that needs to move on.

Depending on the diet of the week I've embraced, some of the finds strike me momentarily with a touch of nostalgia. Since Hostess cupcakes have a special calling to me, I have conflicted feelings when I fish one of those empty containers out from between a seat and the shift counsel or when I stumble onto a smashed container underneath a floor mat. Of course nostalgia turns to a memory challenge, then a caloric nightmare, when I find a supersized empty container with the "3rd one free." Rarely can I recall where exactly that third one wound up being consumed, or shared,- surely I didn't eat them all in one sitting.

But I don't expect trashcans just to be waiting on me at the service station. I pretty much count on them being outside just about every public establishment I frequent. This expectation occasionally proves to be incorrect and leads to awkward moments. I've been known to enter a mall bookstore with a crushed Starbucks cup in one hand and two or three McMuffin wrappers and a little junk mail in the other.

The other day I had to pop into the White Hen Pantry just to make use of their garbage can because they had failed miserably in providing any form of outside trash relief. I did not feel guilty about the

lack of my purchase on that

particular visit. Over time I've removed a lot more from every brand of convenience store than I've returned to them in the form of trash.

The other day I needed the services of a plumber. When Mr. Lents, the plumber, pulled up in front I realized from the sight of his van that there is, indeed, an alternative to all this public garbage disposal. The alternative is, just keep the stuff. That's what my plumber must do.

Wedged tight between the dashboard and the windshield, piled high from the dash to one's eyeballs, my plumber convinced me there is more storage room in a car than I ever would have dreamed possible. No pulling over out of traffic, no scurrying around the gas station, no awkward moments at the bookstore without the garbage can, Mr. Lents just takes his discards and wedges them into his dashboard for all the world to see.

Me, I'm too proud for that. And, there's a decided risk in that approach. What about the 3rd one free cupcake package - and you can't find it amidst all the other trash. Then again, they've got a shelf life of about a decade. I'd probably trade the car in before it really went bad.