Yesterday cousin/roommate and I went to the Pick-A-Park junk yard. Every time we pass it on the way to the supermarket I bounce around the car and make monkey sounds like my cousin's German pointer used to do when we went to the dog park.
You're supposed to sign in and pay a dollar to go in. We signed in, but didn't pay the dollar. They didn't make us sign out, so do they think we're still in there somewhere ...? It's a mystery.
There were lots of sweet cars. Really old Saabs, a Rambler, some fun panel vans like my dad used to have, and plenty of great treasures.
I axed the cousin/roommate where the cars came from, because a lot of them still had personal junk inside -- one even had toys, some had clothes, most of them had owners manuals and maps. He said they come from accidents where the car is totaled or they were in tow yards and no one picked them up.
So I peek into this Volkswagon and it's got two holes in the windshield, and the front end is pushed in and the top is crushed, and on the floor inside were about 20 empty cans of Coors Light.
Dude. It was worse than thrift shops: the clothes may be from people who died, but you don't really which ones. It could be that the sweater just didn't fit anymore. There's way to tell. And, sure, maybe those cans are from later when it sat in some empty lot somewhere, but since Pick-A-Part has an electric fence, it's unlikely that they were some recent addition. So it really kind of creeped me out.
The trucks with the buckshot holes tho' ... that's cool ...
I wonder if they'd let me in with a camera. I'd pay the dollar this time.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
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3 comments:
That sounds like fun. When I was a kid, my parents took me to a military park which had old vehicles, missiles, etc. A dog? had shit in one, and I asked my dad if the soldiers had to go b.m. ( that was the term they taught me...) in the carriers. He told me sometimes it prolly came to that.
doooood. That's hardcore. (I was going to mention that I looked for bloodstains on the seats, but I don't want people to think I'm weird n' stuff. It was like lookin' at a car wreck..... oh ... wait ...)
Junk yard sight-seeing is nice and all...But, for us non-wrenchers you haven't had the true "Pick-Yer-Part" experience untill your gear-head best friend calls you at 7am because today it's half-price day, which only comes twice a year, and he spotted the transmission he needs there last week which, trust me, are not easy to come by in these places, and we have to get down there as soon as possible before some other poor and desperate mechanic swoops down on it...So, It's October in O-Town...It rained like the dickens the night before and is likely about 40 degrees out...We get there just after it opens and make a bee-line to the junker...Tranny's still there...(groan)...In case you are not aware, this SOB weighs about 200lbs and has to be dropped from the bottom...There's a nice 3 inch puddle of freezing mud and oil muck beneath the car some of which we're trying to soak up with scraps of moldy carpet that are lying around...(Ahh...I love the smell of mud and mildew in the morning...smells like...VICTORY!)A few bruised and bloody knuckles later and the monster's free...Now, we have to drag the f@*#er back up to the front so we can pay for it, and I'm really wishing I had a pair of gloves about now...Then, I guard the treasure while he brings the car around. And, while local red-necks point and chuckle, we manage to hoist this slippery, muddy baa-hwee-moth into his trunk...Anyway, he did buy me a "yummy" burrito from the hot wagon in the parking lot, so...you know...it was totally worth it...
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