Closing Loopholes

 

A few weeks ago, I got a new car. My well-loved, reliable Scion XA and I had been together for almost 17 years but, on a recent trip to Pittsburgh, I developed a wandering eye. It's a long time on the turnpike for a driver who goes mostly to work (or Starbucks) and back, and checking out the competition was as good a way as any to pass the time.

I was just looking. I loved my car and wasn't (yet) serious about trading her in.

Although, truth be told, I had done a little research. After lunch with a friend a few weeks before the Pittsburgh trip, I stopped into the dealership next to the restaurant to get some information.

Then I went to Pittsburgh. Shortly after I returned, my Scion's check engine light came on. It wouldn't be that expensive to fix it, relatively speaking, but my research told me that it would cost more than a car payment.

Trading in my car was a much more emotional experience than I anticipated. In fact, I did every mental manipulation possible to rationalize getting a new car and keeping my old one, too. 

In the end, logic prevailed. Tearfully, I emptied out my Scion, preparing to trade her in. Sadness turned to amazement, tinged with embarrassment.

 

How had I managed to fit all of this stuff in my little car? And why ?

About eight years ago, I wrote a blog post about things you'll find in my car, but not my husband's. They were: 

• Paper and a writing implement.

• Tissues or napkins (I have both). 

• A blanket. .

• An umbrella.  

These things were, as it turned out, a teeny, tiny sample of all the stuff that was in my Scion. Things were (mostly) organized, but please! Was all this stuff really necessary?

No. No, it was not.

When we own something for a long time, whether it's a house or a car, we accumulate stuff. And often, as long as there's space, we keep accumulating, sometimes to an embarrassing degree.

Even if we know better. Even if we write about organizing.

I hauled all the stuff into the house, determined to do better. I did a quick sort, immediately tossing the stuff that was easy to part with and separating the things I really did use from the things that were questionable. I tossed the blanket in with the laundry and left everything that remained in a box in the mudroom.

Over the next week, I slowly added things to the new car which is, I might add, significantly larger (i.e. more room to accumulate unnecessary stuff) than the old one. While the four things above were among the first to make it into the car, I made rules about what else could join them.

 

·      Before it went into the car, I had to know where it was going, i.e. glove box, that cool (new to me) compartment between the seats, or the trunk.

·      Seats are a home for people, not things.

·      If possible/practical, it needed to be contained (no loose items).

 

Regular readers know I’m not much of a hard-and-fast-rules kind of girl but these rules closed loopholes that had allowed an entire box full of (largely unnecessary) stuff to collect in my car. Most of the stuff in my car had had a home, but some of the homes (the back seat) weren’t the best choice. Most of the stuff in my car was contained, but the stuff that wasn’t made things look cluttered.

 

I’m happy to report that the rules are working. There is one piece of paper on the passenger’s seat, there to remind me of an errand I need to run. Otherwise, when I get into my new car, there’s a lovely new car sense of peace to go with the new car smell.

 

Are these the best rules for you? Maybe not. Maybe you need different rules to hone in on the things that cause clutter to collect in your car (or house). If so, I’d suggest starting small; fewer rules are easier to stick to. And I’d highly recommend starting a car organizing session by cleaning everything out, even if it means doing it in stages (the glove box one day, the trunk on another day). 

 

We spend a lot of time in our cars. We can’t control what goes on outside the vehicle (or even inside, some days), but we can control what we put in it.