Fifteen or so years ago (boy am I getting old) I had dreams of owning a recycling business. Reusing old scrap metals wasn’t quite as fashionable here in the midwest and neither was the idea of women driving dump trucks. Back in the day, my dad was part owner in a demolition business. I can remember going to a job site after many days of begging and pleading. You see, little girls didn’t do such things like exploring old factories. I remember one particular building we explored was an old laundry factory. It stood about three stories tall. Inside was slide that spiraled from the top floor to the ground floor about 30 feet high. Oh and I forgot to mention the fireman’s type pole. That was before OSHA and of course no one told mama.
So a couple of weeks ago I was called to recycling duty….or should I say Fred Sandford duty. How and why….just know I did. Yes, I drove a loud pick up truck to what used to be called a junk yard but what is now a recycling center. If I were single, suffice it to say there were plenty of helpful guys, business owners, driving expensive rigs, but I digress….I saw all sorts of big boy tonka trucks, tractors, rail cars, chippers,
etc. The recycling centers are big business. Our recyclable metals are taken to the centers, sorted, chipped, sold to China for pennies on the dollar, while China refabricates our junk and sells it back to us. Hmm. Just thinking.
The trip to the junk yard brought back old memories….and what ifs…