April 2, 2003

Coming clean about messy garage

By
Herald Editor

      Without question, there are certain signs that spring has sprung: Our fair weather state bird returns from its winter hiatus. The Detroit Tigers still have a mathematical shot at the World Series. Every year I get swept up in the idea of cleaning the garage.
      Call it an incurable case of spring cleaning fever, but I'm ready to scrub away 10W-30 stains using ample elbow grease. I've found, however, that bringing my ideas to fruition can be a rotten endeavor. Especially those ideas involving garbage bags and rubber gloves.
      Like the Toxic Avenger taking up residency at Love Canal, the garage has become a cesspool of stuff.
      In one corner, stacks of yesterday's news spill onto milk jugs overdue at the recycling center. Tucked behind tangled garden hoses are buckets containing inorganic and possibly extraterrestrial materials. Alongside the dilapidated lawnmower there are enough oil change containers to keep OPEC well in the black.
      However, we still find room to park our cars inside - and not beside the kitchen stove either.
      Of course I have no one to blame for this mess but myself. Despite living in a throw-away society, I am a saver; and I have the busted bolts to prove it.
      To the untrained eye, the garage storage shelves are lined with inexplicable doodads and bric-a-brac. However, pack rats find it problematic to part ways with untapped potential. Perhaps that is why I have a coffee can chock-full of warped wing nuts, slightly stripped screws and wobbly washers.
      Like the Isle of Misfit Toys, these outcasts just need to find the right home repair project - preferably not one involving weight-bearing walls.
      While the most grievous garage clutter drove off six months ago, the shelves are still stocked with project car cast-offs. Valve covers, timing chain, camshaft, pushrods - a heap of parts from a heap of junk. There is no tangible reason to save these things; even as greasy paper weights. Instead they remind me of what good intentions and bad use of $2,000 buys you.
      Being a self-proclaimed "wreck-it-yourselfer," my garage contains certain tools of the trade. Aside from delusions of saved dollars, tools are the real reason for do-it-yourself projects. Nearly any project can turn tool wants into justified heavy duty reciprocating saw needs. And I have the peg board to prove it.
      Just make sure to misplace the tool receipt when the professional who repairs your handiwork sends his bill.
      Aside from too many tools, the garage also serves as sad sporting goods storage. Footballs Charlie Brown would refuse to kick. Tennis racquets gathering more dust than Anna Kournikova's tournament win column. Golf clubs with less grip than John Daly.
      Sentimental reasons stave off a trip to the trash for most of these playthings. Which explains the cracked Zebco fishing rod I fall for hook, line and sinker every spring cleaning - even though it possess none of these attributes. The grown man is still reeled in by boyhood memories of trolling for pike behind the No Pressure pontoon.
      Sentimental attachments and pack rat tendencies have a way of cluttering up life. Maybe this spring I'll make a clean start with the garage - right after I purchase game seven World Series tickets.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com