When I step into my mother’s car, I  am suddenly surrounded by a cloud of memories. I am not speaking figuratively when I say that I am surrounded by a cloud of memories. The odor from that car is so strong that I can taste the rotten milk and eggs and the crusty banana peels that cluster under the seats. If  someone were to lift one of the seat belt buckles, (which I wisely refrain from doing) they would find a brown-green peeling mass which used to be a combination of banana peels, crumbs, and yogurt that rotted away into mush and then hardened over the years. When I am sitting in the car, I think of  all the years that I spent in the occupation of “trash lady” (a position that my mother promoted me to) and my brother was “hand sanitizer dude.”

My job was to gather all of the substances that my mother considered trash (which was everything) and fill trash bags with these nasty masses. I also had to dust bust the car (in other words, I had to vacuum the car with a mini-vacuum cleaner). Even worse, I had to keep the car clean at all times. My brother and I were both agents of disaster, so this was extremely difficult and disgusting. I would get down on my hands and knees in filth and scoop up rot with my bare hands. When I brought the dust-buster  into the house, it frequently shed its grime on the floor, which made a big mess.

My brother’s job was also disgusting. He kept the hand-sanitizer in a cloth pouch strapped to the back of the seat in front of him. He would distribute the liquid to our family if  requested. The bottle leaked all over the pouch and dried, flaky hand-sanitizer was everywhere. I almost feel bad for him!

The seat belts are now a variety of colors. They used to be black, but now they are a series of greys because of the time spent scrubbing them. They used to be covered in little rainbows of slime, but soon we realized that rainbows made out of slime is not the most pleasant thing to be strapped to a seat with.

One disgusting detail about my view of the car is that there is a smashed swedish fish right at eye-level on the seat in front of me. Because of this, I now know an interesting and eye-opening fact. Swedish fish when smashed on a driver’s seat in a car turn a light pink color after several years. They also crumble, flake, and stain the seat so that you can not get rid of the sight. This fact caused me to lose my appetite for Swedish fish.

If a person does not want a car like I described, I would recommend not spilling yogurt, bananas, and milk all over it or smashing Swedish fish onto the back of the driver’s seat. I know from experience that if you do, you will get nasty results.