I hate giving people a ride in my minivan. It’s not that I dislike conversation or mind the inconvenience. It’s not even because I despise driving a loser cruiser. I’ve long since given up on image, be it vehicular or fashion.
The reason I hate giving others a ride is because I’m embarrassed: Our van is laden with enough crumbs to batter an entire school of mercury-filled fish.
But last Friday, I had to transport two colleagues, both male, both parents with kids in their twenties, both owners of spotless vehicles. Friend A drives a Honda Accord, but had carpooled that morning. Friend B drives a Smart Car, which limits one’s friends.
So, I had to drive. We left the school, three teachers in suits going out to get noodles-in-a-box before conducting parent-teacher interviews. We walked quickly, conscious of time and a north wind.
As we approached the van, we were greeted by hieroglyphics. My twins, deprived of crafts, believe a dirty vehicle is a perfect canvas for their artistic abilities.
I threw open the sliding door, grabbed a car seat with two hands, and heaved it into the back. Then I frantically picked food off the seat. Most of this was to no avail. Crumbs, wrappers, dirt, and gravel covered every surface, making it a mobile compost heap. I believe some apple seeds had started to sprout.
I took the first of three defenses available to the guilty: blame. I blamed my kids. I blamed my husband (it was, after all, his job to clean the interior of vehicles). Silently, though, I blamed myself: what kind of parent lets children eat in a vehicle? What kind of person doesn’t clean her vehicle?
Then came the second defense of the guilty: displacement.
“Hey,” I joked with my colleagues, “did you remember your hazmat suit?”
Finally, the third defense of the guilty: admission.
“Sorry about the mess,” I said.
And then, like good friends do, they proceeded to tell me about the state of their own vehicles twenty years ago. I’m not sure if their stories were true or fabricated.
But it doesn’t even matter.
Those tales got us to our lunch destination and got me to a good place, beyond guilt.
I must visit that place more often.
I can so empathize. My front passenger seat isn’t even fit for sitting on a large majority of the time, but that’s b/c my son refuses to allow me (or my husband, whoever is not driving) to sit there – we have to sit in back to entertain the boy. The rare times we leave the house without him, we have to add 5 minutes into our start time to shove everything onto the floor and pick crumbs up before sitting.
Yes, the ol’ musical chairs in the car routine. It’s good to know I’m not alone!
This is exactly what my car would look like if left to my own devices. Thankfully, my husband is completely anal about car cleanliness. Now if he only felt that way about the kitchen.
Does your husband do car-calls? I think car-cleaning places should sell monthly passes. Good luck with the kitchen!
I found a rotten mango under one of the seats in my van on Thursday. Enough said. I’m afraid my van would be eligible for that A&E show Hoarders (my house looks the opposite of my van by the way, which is somewhat a comfort).
Yes – Hoarders for car owners. Maybe everyone needs a space where he/she can be a slob.
As for your mango, my 5-year-old son would have been happy to find it; he watched a Sid the Science Kid video yesterday (4x?)and is now preoccupied with decay, especially decaying fruit.
Oh I swear there’s something growing in my car. Back seats, trunk, passenger seat. It’s awful. I avoid transporting other people …. for exactly this reason!
Sounds like we both have legal, vehicular grow-ops!
My husband hates it when I let the kids eat in the car. But then he’s not one driving them around all day. Mom Guilt leads to no where good. I do my best to ignore it.
I agree. Kids not eating in the car was a commandment I had…then I spawned.
My car looks just like that & I only have one child, but he makes the mess of 3. Had a similar situation today with cousins that came from out of town. The mad dash to the car to clean a place for them to sit before they can get in the car. I swore when I was younger that my car would never look like this. Reality is a bad and scary thing.
Glad to hear there’s other moms doing the dirty-car-shuffle. Maybe for Mother’s Day someone will take our vehicles and detail them. If only. But then again, roses would likely last longer than a clean car!
I realize this post is a couple of years ago, but I could help but laugh at the crumbs coating the fish statement. I have four little crumb makers and it is ridiculous how fast it can get there. I’ve decided I have no more pride so what can it hurt? Besides if I leave it long enough and my husband knows I’m giving someone a ride, he cleans it for fear of judgement. I relax and let him fear the internal scoffing of others. I still use strategy #2 which could also be called “humor” to rebuff anyone’s judgement (my MIL’s). I think it’s NORMAL but thanks for including pictures just to help me know for sure others have vans that are less than spot clean.