I can’t believe I’m the only one who contemplates the history of a used car. What was the last owner like? What kind of driving did he do? What kind of life experiences happened in the car, both mundane and life-altering?
Each car has a story, they just can’t tell you. Truth be told, the stories you conjure up may probably be more interesting than the actual events that did take place. You know, that everyday stuff we all deal with: who got dumped by whom? How fast did it go and where did this happen? How many speeding tickets or points on the driving record were racked up?
But if your car has had more colorful past, like, say, police duty, than the potential for awesome stories increases exponentially. How many people have been in the back of the car? What did they do to end up there? How many chases was it in? How did that bend in the rear trailing arm get there? Was that dent in the decklid caused by someone’s face?
Speculation got ratcheted up to a feverish pace two weekends ago when I pulled the seats and took the rubber floor mat out. For the last several weeks I’ve become increasingly annoyed with stuff rattling around under the mat. Take a hard left, and it sounded like a bunch of pennies in a coffee can took a right underneath me.
There was of course the typical stuff you’d expect to find behind seats or under carpet- loose change, dirt, sand, and small pebbles. There was also the typical lived-in stuff, too- a Snickers wrapper, sunflower seeds, coffee stains, gum wrappers, a straw. Then there was the interesting cop stuff: stray wires left behind from strobe lights or radio equipment, sheet metal screws, ear plugs, a dubious stain under the back seat, and best of all- a bullet. Not just any bullet, either, but a hollow-point .40 caliber bullet. Serious stuff. Wow! I wish the car could talk!
Until now, I haven’t made much of an attempt to trace the car’s history, but it would be cool to meet the deputy who was assigned this car and hear some of his stories. I’ll bet they’re a riot, perhaps literally.