I Roll

The sound of loose ball bearings rolling about in the passenger side door pocket is quite soothing when I am on a long drive for business on nice quiet and winding roads. The nearest comparable sound would be a bubbling brook as it cascades over the rock strewn pools of an eddying backwater.

The same sound evokes a massive annoyance amongst any fellow travellers when I explain  the source. It should really be met with an expression of relief if they had  initially thought it was some form of mechanical or technical malfunction. The ball bearings had burst forth from the weak seams of a small black linen bag. It had been part of a load of surplus household items on the way to a car boot sale at the end of the last season. I am not sure where it actually originated from as it was potentially a bit of a weapon a la Charles Bronson Deathwish mode and certainly not the sort of thing to play catch with unless you did intend to cause major dental damage to a best friend.

In my junior school days the beanbag was a regular feature of the physical education lessons and if they were unfortunate enough to burst then the assembly hall was scattered through with actual black eye beans or if on a tight Local Authority budget, a dry bean soup mix or broad beans from the home store cupboard of a teacher.

Fearful of the bag falling into inappropriate unsupervised hands or the contents finding their way into the breach of a ball bearing gun I had whisked it away from the boot sale stock hence its resting place in the car door pocket. I realised this week that I could no longer hear the therapeutic and chill-out sound because it was being outdone by an altogether different barrage of noises from the sheer volume of rubbish and debris littering my car to a very disgraceful extent. It was time to carry out a thorough spring clean of the vehicle. I had successfully put this horrible chore on hold for some months but in the interests of health and hygiene, to offset any allergic reaction to dust and to prevent the numerous St Arbucks paper cups from getting wedged under the accelerator (not too bad) or the brake pedal (potentially disastrous) something had to be done. It had rained heavily in the preceeding week so I had benefitted from what someone wittily called a Mexican Carwash and the exterior was reasonably clean although a bit streaky around the wheel arches and with a rusty dry powder coating on the tailgate window.

It was time to get to grips with the interior. In spite of the car sales brochure waxing on about so many dust filters and pollen filters it is amazing how much of a fine film collects on the dashboard, over the instrument panel and in the tight jointed gaps between plastic, faux aluminium and the curious vinyl skirt around the gearstick. If I am stuck in traffic I get to work on easing out the dust and grime from the interior trim. The edge of that sticky part of a parking ticket is ideal to swipe through the gaps and to pull out various bits of detritus. The most satisfying extraction is from a small rectangular piece of metal at the lower edge of the steering wheel. I liken the task to the removal of fluff from the belly button.

The bin bag for the loose rubbish was filling up nicely. More coffee cups and those cardboard sleeve holders, a few drinking straws still in their sleeve packets, crisp packets, foil based chewing gum packets complete with now fossilised discarded gum, a cross section of Cadbury product wrappers, diet coke cans, right angled corner containers from my favourite supermarket lunch deal sandwich (Cheese and pickle) , posh brown paper bags from delicatessen visits and a collection of flimsy carrier bags- some already full from a mini-valet session earlier in the year. I have a superstition not to throw away pens or pencils even if they are only capable of writing one last sentence. The exception is a leaky ball point which is a very unpleasant thing to discover especially if unexpected and is first found by blue inky stains through the back of the seat pocket or on probing fingers. The upside of a spring clean is the unearthing of small change under the seats and floor mats and wedged down the side of the CD holder.

It is only after the loose waste has been removed that I can get in with the Dyson. The attachments, rarely used in a domestic setting, are well suited for car cleaning. I switch regularly between the long thin edge nozzle and the fluffy but stiff round brush to remove the half ton of gravel, grit and farmers straw? that has somehow found its way into the car. I draw a line at the purchase of specialist cleaning products such as dashboard black and vinegar infused window and lens solutions preferring a dettol based but bleach free household spray. This gives me some reassurance that at least 99.9% of lurking germs and bacteria get zapped in those parts I just cannot get to.

Last to be removed are the ball bearings. Regrettable really because they were now unopposed from intrusive and distracting accompaniment, back in a glorious solo performance of a rolling tide, lolling about in a metallic based ripple of subtle burbling and chortling. A few of the sparkling stainless steel spheres escaped during the transfer from door pocket to bin bag and could be heard gleefully making their way down the driveway, onto the roadway and from there, who knows where.

They are probably still rolling even now.