In my heart of hearts, I really don’t want to pick up litter. I really don’t. I mean, who in their right mind wants their daily constitutional to be interrupted by constant stooping and bending (and cursing) as well as continual stares as if you were some sort of bag man?
But the trash is there, so I do the dirty deed.
Aside from the feel-good aspect of such drudgery, there is a silver lining.
I find stuff. Lots of stuff of the non-trash variety. Unlike the morons who carelessly pitch stuff, much of this secondary treasure finds its way to the curb or median in a non-typical way; it likely falls out of the vehicle.
For instance, here’s some of the loot that sees a differing sort of ‘recycling.’
Tools. I’ve stumbled upon several sets of ratchets, a step ladder (I hauled it off the sidewalk but when I drove by later, it was still there so I reclaimed it), wrenches of varying sizes, a tape measure, a square, coiled rope, a couple of hammers and one hand sledge, box openers, several sets of safety goggles, work gloves still in the package, chisels, boxes of nails and screws, assorted screwdrivers and lengths of chain.
Beverages. Yeah, my usual prey is empty containers, but a guy has to be lucky sometimes, doesn’t he? I’ve stowed away at least a 12 pack worth of beer (singleton cans tossed aside perhaps by teens who got antsy when they saw the police?), a once unopened fifth of gin which is still in my freezer, plus unopened bottles of sport drinks. Rest easy; I wash them all off with soap and water. This is my kind of recycling.
Money. If you keep your head down long enough, you’ll find cash. I’ll wager over the past four years, I’ve recovered at least $75 in spare change and loose bills (including a $20). It’s all tossed into a cigar box in one of my closets.
Other keepables. I’ve come across multiple credit and debit cards (sometimes found very close to the owner’s drivers license) all of which are returned to the rightful owners (such displays of honesty even earned me movie passes), unused notepads, quarts of motor oil (thank God that goop didn’t wash down the storm drain), enough pens to supply a classroom, scissors, a box of manilla envelopes, many food storage containers (which I don’t keep), full packs of cigarettes, rolls of duct tape, and books.
The list goes on.
So my finds aren’t all just the residue of slobbery. Look hard enough in my garage and you’ll see stuff that went from curb to bag to a second life with me.