Micro Machines

My Dad has received a lot of grief for the state of his garage (and every other space he commands) because of how much stuff he chooses to store and keep. Either the jibes caught up with him or he just decided he'd rather have a better organized garage. He started cleaning out the garage this weekend, a huge task. This is a good thing: I would have thought he was on his way to an Oprah intervention had something not changed the course of his pack-rat-ed-ness. Before he started the only empty space in the whole garage was the exact shape of a 1997 Toyota Camry. And he has a really big garage.

I showed up half a day into this epic cleanse and purge. Not to help so much as to witness the spectacle. I was mostly struck by the fact that most of the stuff that my Dad has in the garage are tools. Or vehicle-related. Or 30 boxes of paperwork from his old office with the Feds. And his camping equipment. Really nothing that should have garnered two decades of jokes from his family. Most of the junk in the garage was someone else’s. My brother’s tools take up some prime real estate, but Dad is happy to have those tools around. My Mom had some random stuff out there. Apparently I had some stuff out there, too. Some pretty rad stuff.

I was obsessed with Micro Machines when I was a kid. I think these kicked off my healthy obsession with cars. One particular red Porsche Turbo Cabriolet swayed my car preferences that direction for good. These little toys led to the old Porsche I had for six years that Dad and I mechanically restored. I loved that car. When I was a kid, I may have loved my Micro Machines more. I had aircraft carriers, multiple cities, and buildings. And plenty of cars and boats and airplanes.


The Micro Machines aren’t getting thrown out with the other trash. I’m holding onto them. Most of the cars and a few of the buildings. Steph blames me for steering the girls toward a predilection for cars. Who? ME!?

Anyways, Dad’s garage was heading in the right direction when I left Saturday afternoon. He had been holding on to some trash that he shouldn’t have, like the moving boxes we used to move from Iowa to Oregon, but with those now recycled it looks like he’ll have to find another way on to the Oprah show.

Oh! And Today’s Dad’s Birthday! Happy Birthday Bruce!