The Truth About My Car

In some ways, the world can be divided into two different types of people: those who have immaculate vehicles and, well, the rest of us.

And while I desperately want to be considered in the first category, the sad truth is the interior of my car borders on the chaotic.

To put it another way, if I were caught in a freak blizzard on the Central Coast and had to remain in a snowdrift for a week while authorities frantically launched rescue operations, I'd probably emerge from my car five pounds heavier.

And, judging from the books and magazines inside the car, better-read, too.

I've taken some time to think about why my sedan doesn't look pristene. And I've come up with a few -- shall we say -- excuses. Here they are for your perusal:

A large percentage of the time, when I pull into the driveway, someone inside the vehicle is desparate to hit the potty. It doesn't take much imagination to picture the ensuing madness. I jump out, unlatch seat belts, race to the door, unlock hastily and help with the scramble to the bathroom. In no short order, phones are ringing, kids are clamoring and the last thing I remember are the gum wrappers on the floor of the car.

If there's no bathroom crisis, chances are our Yorkshire Terrier will dash out of the house when the front door opens. Although the fiendish little fella has the pretense of greeting us, Nigel is smart enough to execute a quick about-face and run like the wind down the street. Did I mention the middle of the street? Of course, we all run after him like parade misfits, yelling, flailing our arms and even stopping traffic when necessary. By the time we catch him, we're all so flustered that no one even thinks about the car.

While that summarizes the emergency operations from our driveway, I have a few more reasons, too.

How about one child who refuses to keep shoes and socks on for more than several minutes at a time? In the interest of preparedness, I always have extras floating about the back seat.

And what of those long Little League practices where we must spend an hour or more watching from the vehicle? To pass the time, there's books, snacks, and the occasional crochet project.

When planning my daughter's wedding last summer, I drove around with samples of everything from fabric to rose petals. Just the other day, I found a few Jordan almonds in the crevice of the back seat. Just in case you wondered, those candies never really taste stale, and their pastel shade doesn't fade, regardless of how long they sit in the sun.

I was tempted to put a photo of the inside of my car with my blog. But remember the game "Truth or Dare" we used to play as teenagers at slumber parties? Let's put it this way: I choose dare. Even if the dare meant bungee jumping from L.A.'s Bridge to Nowhere. At night.

But even without a photo, my car should be pretty easy to spot these days. It's the one outside any number of Republican functions with the "Stockdale for Congress" bumper sticker on the rear.

Just look for the crayons and granola bar wrappers in the back seat.