Finally broke down and got myself that sweet two-wheeler I've been eyeing. You can call it a midlife crisis purchase; I don't care.
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| born to be wild |
When we first moved into this house, I bought a cheap trash can, from the now-long-gone local Kmart. It proved to be a bad idea. It's very windy around here, and I was commuting from suburbia to urbia, and by the time I came home from Manhattan the emptied can could be found almost anywhere on the block. And it's a long block. I never did find out what happened to the lid. Maybe it ran away from home. It was never the same after a car ran over it.
My wife had enough, and took her own personal self to Home Depot to get a big ol' Rubbermaid trash can, similar to the one above. Heavy, lid attached, with wheels, it was perhaps not the Cadillac of garbage cans, but certainly the high-end Buick. It may have blown over, but it never blew away.
Well, as our first blush of youth faded over the last eighteen years, so too did Rubbermaid's. It started with a crack in the base of the thing. No problem; actually an advantage, as a rain drain for when the garbage men left the lid open after pickup. Then it turned into a split that ran across the edge of the base. Then the base split on the other side. Finally the base split in the front, and was detached on three sides. I could still roll it up from the garage, but the trash bags inside could be seen peeking out the flap of a bottom, which slid along the asphalt as the wheels rolled behind.
At last, I gave up and bought the beauty above.
If, when I was a kid, someone told me I would spend ninety bucks on a trash can, I would have expected it to take the garbage out by itself. But our old Rubbermaid sanitation device taught me the value of a good can. If this one is more like the Caddy of cans, as I suspect, it may last me until I start to collect Social Security. And it's pretty groovy to be popping wheelies twice at week at that age.
My first question now is, should I paint the house number on it? That was a standard action when I lived in the city. If you had a really sensational garbage can, or just didn't want to be bothered to have to buy replacements, you painted the house number on it to reduce its appeal to thieves. Also useful if it did blow away, like my cheap can. I never bothered with the Rubbermaid can, but this new one may need the treatment. I wouldn't want someone hijacking my sweet set of wheels.
And my second question is, how do you throw away a garbage can?
3 comments:
That looks like the kind our county supplies homeowners. Ours is 14 years old and still serviceable. They even replaced a cracked lid on request!
They're pretty hefty and withstand moderate abuse. If the wind catches them right when empty, they'll fly about. Trash day here is Thursday, so our weather fronts are scheduled (it seems) to come through Wednesday night. When the can is emptied, the loose trash from the dopes who don't put it in bags blows all over the place and the emptied can goes on tour.
Though pickup is 10-11 AM, many people leave the cans out overnight. Critters from raccoons to bears have a field day. One goofball put a bungee cord on the lid "to deter bears," he said. Teddy bears, maybe!
"how do you throw away a garbage can?"
I finally met the trash guys and told them to take it. Of course, this was back before the mechanical grabbers were in common use. Nowadays, I think I would have to carve it up and put it into another trash can.
Since the city put us all on a semi-automated trash service, replacement cans are provided for free. This is good because the semi part of the automation (the drive/operator) often exhibits a need for speed, resulting in slamming and dragging as he puts the can back down. We put up with the cracks, but when a wheel fell off, it was worth the call. Waiting for Tuesday with great anticipation.
Good luck with the new can, raf!
I think regular trash pickup is very civilized, even if they bang your can around, or the critters get to it. It's hard to be truly civilized (or healthy) with garbage and sewage everywhere.
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