I’ve recently gotten into the habit of wandering my neighborhood at 9-10ish at night, talking to various folks on my cell phone. Sometimes we talk about important business, other times we’re just chatting. It’s a nice way to end the day.

On one of these walks, I noticed a strange truck parked by the curb at a quaint little park, connected to an extremely old trailer with peeling paint. Both the truck and trailer read:

UNWANTED APPLIANCES HAULED AWAY

The trailer is also kind enough to note that it is IRON MAN who is providing this service, and that Mr. Iron Man collects such things as:

  • BQ GRILL (should be “BBQ GRILLS” but a B and S have peeled off)
  • LAN MOWS (I believe this is “lawn mowers” missing a W, an E and an R)
  • BIKS (“bikes” missing an E)
  • CRAP MEAL (most likely “scrap metal” missing an S and a T, though I find this version much more amusing)

(I regret that it’s been too dark to take a picture of this truck every time I’ve passed it.)

Somehow, in the time between the night before, when that space on the curb was vacant, and the time at which I was reading the extensive list of junk that this man of iron will take off of one’s hands, this truck had arrived, and one or more people had taken notice and hauled over (from what I could see):

  • Multiple bicycles
  • A rake
  • A freezer (or refrigerator… is there a way to tell the difference?)
  • At least three barbecue grills
  • A slide from a children’s playset
  • Rectangular metal tubing that appeared have been an air duct at one time
  • The mower portion of a push lawn mower (apparently this person had another use for the handle)
  • Some strange plastic tube thing that I couldn’t possibly identify. However, it was plastic, leading me to believe that someone had confused this truck for a PLASTIC MAN vehicle.

Over the next week of nightly outings, the truck continued to fill (one day a different truck, clearly from the same “fleet”, had taken its place). Iron Man was obviously hauling away these unwanted appliances as he promised, because the contents of the truck continued to fluctuate.

At least a week later, I was going about my walk and passed by what is called (at least according the stone dictating its dedication to Evelyn something, a “super” president on my neighborhood’s board of directors) a “mini plaza”. (It’s two benches on opposite sides of the sidewalk… how this is a plaza, even of the mini variety, I don’t know.) I just happened to notice, conveniently illuminated by a lamp post, a large sheet of metal laying in the street. This metallic rectangle was at least 2.5 by 5 feet, with two rows of little holes running neatly down the middle.

I couldn’t just leave this hazard where it was, obstructing our suburban road! That would make a bad resident of me, and I certainly needed as many points as possible if I was ever going to earn a mini plaza dedication. Suddenly, I knew what to do.

This was a job for Iron Man.

Within thirty seconds, I was walking the four block distance to the parked truck, metal in hand. Of course, I was also walking my dog, and I couldn’t just cut off my phone conversation!

So, I slowly shuffled down the sidewalk with the incredibly dirty metal in my right hand, held in place by my left elbow. My left hand was busy holding both my dog’s leash and my phone up to my ear. Also, did I mention that I was wearing flip flops?

Who knows what went through the mind of the five or six drivers who went by me as I made this trek, but I’m fairly sure it was something like, “Look at that wonderful resident of our fine neighborhood, clearing the road of superfluous metal. They’ll most definitely build a mini plaza in recognition of his efforts one day.”

Turned out it was difficult to lift this metal into the truck with only one hand, so it ended up resting, somewhat skewed, partly in the bed of the truck and partly on top of the hitch connecting this truck to its trailer. Despite this, I returned the next day to find the truck gone, and the scrap metal with it.

I had performed my duty as a resident. I hope those black stains come out of that t-shirt. And those jeans. And my hand. I’ll take my mini plaza now.