Oct 30 2007
The Dump
On Saturday, my Dad and I ventured to the dump. Having grown up in the sticks, the boondocks, the middle of nowhere, going to the dump was a part of life when I was a kid. When I left home, I was amazed to discover that most people did not have a well, a septic system that froze in the winter, a wood stove to heat the house, and a plug sticking out of the front of their car. When Dale and I purchased our first car, I asked him where the plug was and insisted that we had to get a car with an engine block heater. He not so kindly informed me that I was from the backwoods. Now that I live in a more civilized place, there are still a few things that fill me with gratitude. I am always grateful that I can wheel my garbage can (rubbish bin) to the end of my driveway and someone will come by and take my garbage to the dump for me. A trip to the dump was not exactly a pleasant experience when I was growing up. Our dump adventure was brought about by Stafford County Hazardous Waste Disposal Day. The previous owner of the house had left me 28 years worth of paint cans, deck wash, gas cans, turpentine, mineral spirits, oil, etc. I had piled it up in the garage and kept watch for the day Stafford County would finally allow me to get rid of it. Their notification informed me that people trained to dispose of hazardous waste would remove the items from my car, and that I must have proof that I was a Stafford County resident. I had my drivers license ready and was expecting workers in full hazmat gear. I was waved right in and a guy wearing a clear plastic garbage bag over his clothes and garden gloves started removing paint cans. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as expected. Next, we drove up to dispose of an old dehumidifier. The guy instructed us to go to bin #2. There were massive bins placed below the different numbered parking spots. Dad picked up the dehumidifier and tossed it in. Someone else had thrown in a water heater. There were bins to throw refrigerators in and bins to throw tires in. I stood there thinking, “Michael Thompson would love this place. He would drive around picking up junk, just so he could toss it into a giant bin and watch it smash.” I was a bit embarrased to be driving a minivan. In rural America, you take your trash to the dump in a pickup truck (your rubbish to the tip in a ute) For a long time, I saw nothing but pickup trucks. Eventually, I saw a few people like me driving cars and vans, but we all looked out of place. I know when Dale returns he’ll refuse to go to the dump unless I let him buy a pickup truck. Afterall, you can’t go to the dump on a motorcycle. I’ll probably have to make the drive myself with Gabe for company. Gabe wouldn’t care about the mode of transportation as long as he could go to the dump too. On the way home from the dump, we stopped at Wawa, a convenience store, (Servo). The Wawa is the most popular place in Stafford. It is always busy. People here love the Wawa. When we were in Australia, Zeke started calling a girl from church Wawa, so whenever I go there I always think of Tarooshi. (I probably didn’t spell that right.) The Wawa has 20 different coffee pots, someone who will make you a sandwich, an ATM with no surcharge, fresh donuts, gas (petrol) for your car, and most anything else you could want. When giving directions in Stafford, you must include a reference to Wawa. For example, “Turn left at the Wawa.” “Just past the Wawa.” “You know where the Wawa is, right?”" I learned quickly, that if I was going to fit in, I needed to begin to love the Wawa. Dad got a decaf coffee in a paper cup (No fruh fruh Starbucks Latte for him) and a box of donuts for us to eat. It’s always important to celebrate a successful trip to the dump.
Yes nothing like an Organizational...
I assume the translations are there to prove to your American friends that you can speak Australian. Because with the amount of American TV we watch, we all understand American. And no dragging up my question about sloppy joes, to disprove my comment.
My dear Juliet,
While it is true that I’ve always been a bit of a show off, I would never dream of insulting your intelligence. However, I do have the Honorable (Honourable) Mr. Thompson to consider.
Amen to the Honerable Mr Thompson.
By the way Mugs, While living in PA (Pennsylvania) we fell in love with WaWa. They are like rats, everywhere. They were the only thing open at 5:00am while I was on my way to a hockey game with the kids, and yes all directions must include a reference to a WaWa.
Really, the translations are there so I can brag that I have a bilingual blog.
I just got back from a week away for work and it is so good to see that i have not been forgotten. Thankfully (??), i too watch a lot of American television and i am up to date with the language … i can even do the “Texas drawl” without trying too hard.
I will add the WaWa to our list of “must visit” places when we come over to the other side of the world, (which by the way looks like being December 2008). The question is, will there be a disposal day happening in Stafford? I’d hate to miss out on going for a drive to the dump in Dales new truck!
lol
i think i’ll pass on a day trip to the dump myself….
i can remember the dump when growing up, i hated the dump…
but, sounds quite the adventure for your Australian self
tee hee
have a great day Mugs and kids!
When my Dad was in the hospital, he overheard his roommate talking on the phone to his son. His roommate was giving his son directions to the hospital. Sure enough, my Dad heard him say, “Now, when you get to the Wawa…” That gave my Dad something to chuckle about.