It was only a small repair – and yet something big opened up for me. My desk had a wobbly table leg – which is why a friend of mine helped me to fix it. He surveyed the situation, then nodded to me to come along. In the parking lot he lifted the trunk lid. Or better: the lid of a treasure chest.
The trunk was packed: tools, shoes, change of clothes, umbrella, plastic dishes, mugs, cutlery, blankets, air sofa, first-aid kit, bathing suits, towels. He left his swimming trunks where they were, instead grabbing a screwdriver from the tool box – then we turned our attention to the table leg.
It’s less the story of a desk repair and more that of a trunk door opening. What is this guy doing with all these things and why is he driving them around in the car? Maybe he is a victim of the Munich housing shortage? Does he live in his car?
The contents of the trunk says more about the driver and his surroundings than one or the other might like. In Syria, for example, I had my standard equipment with me: a water can (ideally full), a wooden stick, a flashlight, batteries, a shovel, a camera – and a shisha. The water was not only used to quench thirst, but also to cool the car engine (at often 40 degrees in the shade). The club helped in self-defense against bandits. Because the electricity often went out in Syria during the war, the lamp was needed as a backup light. Meanwhile, the shovel was used to scrape the mud off the road in order to be able to continue. The camera served the purpose of documenting destruction after air raids. The hookah was mostly used when you didn’t need all the other utensils.
I once watched classic German films in Syria. Striking were the always similar hat racks of cars including nodding dogs and toilet paper rolls, garnished with a crocheted hood. In real life, you rarely find something like this here. But today everyone has an orange vest and a warning triangle with them.
I will never forget how I once sat in the sun on the banks of the Isar when a black cloud moved in and a downpour fell. As I sheltered under a tree, a man rushed to his car and returned with an umbrella and nylon blanket. His little – dry – daughter looked at me happily under the umbrella as I sat there, wet as a chicken in a water bath.
For me, it was the initial spark for a new strategy for self-sufficiency in the car. The strategy of a lucky guy who has landed in a peaceful luxury region. Take: a bottle of water, a jump starter kit, a blanket, a small pharmacy, an emergency hammer, a jukebox, toilet paper (important in traffic jams on the freeway) – and as mentioned, an umbrella.
The extended luxury variant, for example on excursion days, looks like this: sunscreen, small pillows, a hot water container, wooden spoons and forks accompanied by paper plates, plus a volleyball and a chess board with figures, table tennis bats with balls – and a folding table with wobbly legs. Wiggling is allowed in the trunk.