13 Cents, A Hornet’s Nest, A Fingernail and A Secret Compartment

We were cleaning the 1965 comet Station wagon yesterday (that poor thing, while it runs, has been sitting for at least a year unloved), and I found lots of miscellaneous items:

• 1 dime
• 3 pennies
• 1 hornet’s nest in the passenger side of the rear door jamb - luckily, the hornet’s disappeared - probably somewhere near Kansas on the cross country trek
• cigarette butts in the back seat ashtrays
• 1 steak knife
• 1 Lee press on nail, french tip, probably the pinky
• 1 tube sock (stop it, Edna!)
• a bunch of red dirt that could have only come from Moab Utah (or maybe Arizona)
• 1 ballpoint pen from Napa Auto Parts in Breckenridge, Colorado
• assorted nuts and bolts
• attached and working seat belts (bonus - somebody bought the “safety package” in 1965, when seat belts were still optional)
• 1 pair of green rubber gloves
• white dog hair
• 2 dark green felt squares
• original front floor mats, believed to have once been opaque, but are now dirt colored (I think they may come back)
• 1 old can of brake fluid
• 1 older can of power steering fluid
• 1 crumpled up grocery list written on a pink not-so-sticky-anymore note (milk, eggs, whiskey) Ramos Fizz anyone? 
• lots and lots of dirt
• 1 window crank from another automobile
• 1 secret compartment underneath the carpet in the back

The secret compartment is, of course, very interesting to me. Mostly because I am fascinated with boxes. I simply cannot walk past a box in a store, whether it is a cedar chest, jewelry box or decorative tin, without opening it up. There is something so secretive about a box - you can put your most treasured items in it and it is somehow secret. Anyway, the secret compartment is about a cereal box size in width, and maybe 6 inches deep. Inside the compartment was where I found the steak knife, a few nuts and bolts, one penny, the rubber gloves and the bottles of fluid.

My imagination takes me on a completely different trek with the secret compartment hidden under the carpet of Buckwheat, but that is a story for another day.

Oh yes, we have officially named her. A big holler goes out to Traci Adams who inadvertently named the car:

BUCKWHEAT. 

Thanks to all who submitted names for her. When you meet her, you will understand.