Junk Yard

By Bob Hansen

“God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.”

One never knows when God will direct one to a new career. One day, my wife said, “We had to make an emergency run to the nearest auto wrecking yard.” Our mission was to find a replacement driver’s seat for my mother-in-law’s car.

While in route, the idea dawned on me. Filled with the glory of the moment, I blurted out, “Why don’t we start a junk yard business?” You can probably imagine my wife’s reaction. Yes, she was thrilled. She could hardly wait for me start collecting car hulks, piling them around the property.

With this potential career change in mind, we spent an enjoyable half-hour at the junkyard. I’m not sure what she enjoyed most. It might have been the pleasant decor of the office area. The building was a vision of thoughtful ornamentation. True, the walls were a bit dingy, but that defect was easily overcome by the dusty photos of antique cars on the walls and an old plastic Easter basket sitting on a windowsill.

Besides the aesthetic appeal, the place was a picture of efficiency. We entered by following a carpeted pathway, which was nicely tinged with ground-in mud and grease. This brought us to the counter, the nerve center, where we registered our parts request.

“Yeah, we’ve got that.”

I noted the service representative’s pleasant, polished demeanor.

He pointed to an aerial photograph hanging on the wall behind him. “It’s somewhere in this area.”

I noticed there were three such photographs, showing the fascinating evolution of the wrecking yard. I’m sure my wife noted this too.

The real adventure began when we perused mountains of mangled metal, searching for one of the right model. The experience was akin to exploring some exotic tropical island hoping to find hidden treasure.

The situation brought back a childhood memory. A group of us guys were camping on the Teanaway River in Eastern Washington. There we happened upon a dump. We spent several happy hours searching through things that people had, surprisingly, thrown away. We found a frying pan to replace the ones we had accidentally left at home. And we crafted a coffee can and some wire into a kettle in which we cooked the crawfish. All in all, the dump was one of the high points of the trip.

I’m not sure what it is about dumps or junkyards that’s so appealing to guys. It has something to do with adventure and exploration—things for which we men are well known. When searching through piles of refuse, there’s a sense of excitement, anticipation. You never know what treasure you might find. And the best part is that you will pay little or nothing for the valuables you uncover.

My wife is still excited about starting a junkyard. We have a few details to sort out, though—like who gets the pets when she leaves me.

Perhaps this isn’t God plan for my career change.

Bob Hansen writes from Chehalis, Washington. bhansen6@juno.com