Opening a new TrashWalking week, we expect warm mornings in the fifties and warm afternoons in the eighties. The afternoons are tolerable because there is cold beer. The mornings, not so much, because when we find the occasional unopened beer, it’s warm and tastes terrible. Plus, we fight over it. It’s not pretty.
Last week, we found Sonic the Hexapod, a version of Sonic the Hedgehog. This week, we found Shadow the Hedgehog.
We have yet to find Sonic the Hedgehog. These are McDonald’s Happy Meal toys, but they seem pretty Mickey Mouse to us.
Flashback Monday: Poop Bags & Pandemic Nostalgia. Today’s find: a small poop bag ensemble—one used, others virginal. Likely detached from a dog’s collar-side accessory kit.
If we were the dog, we’d chew that thing off, too. Imagine being forced to carry your own poop bags like some sort of four-legged sherpa. The indignity. We report these abuses to the ASPCA, of course, but they must screen their calls.
These days, we barely flinch at the sight of two or three stray poop bags and the weekly crop of four to five disposable gloves. It’s become the background litter of our walks, like cigarette butts.
We kept walking through the pandemic, and the quantity of discarded gloves and poop bags surged, both by volume and weight.
How we miss those days… Yeah, no. We don’t.
We found a Cloud Factory tin by “Ooowee,” lying on the road.
“Est. 2021,” it claims, though this one seems more like deceased 2025. It’s likely the packaging for a cannabis vape cartridge, though this one seems to have cannabis vaporized into litter.
By the freeway, there is a building that has been empty for several years. Recently, it went up for sale. The for-sale sign is gone, and some work is underway. Strangely it appears to be centered on the parking lot.
The parking lot was asphalt and in reasonable condition, but it appears they are applying an epoxy coating. Perhaps the new tenant is the SETI, and they are preparing a reflective alien landing area for valet parking. Just a guess. But the first visitors will be the Oooweeans looking for their lost vape tin.
We picked up a plexiglass Boston Celtics emblem.
We checked their season, and they made the playoffs but lost in the second round. Just like their playoff run, this emblem started off strong, but its dreams ended on the road.
More beer can archeology.
We ventured down a steep embankment to retrieve a tossed beer can and found these on the way. An Olympia beer can. It had a zip-top (pull-tab) top, which places it in the sixties to seventies. Next to it was a beer bottle. The NW on the bottom indicates that it was produced at the Northwestern Glass Company, and the other markings indicate it was produced in 1963, which agrees with the probable dating of the Olympia can.
So, where was Chuck in 1963? He was in High School German class, sitting in alphabetical order behind a hot chick with the last name of Billmaier. Sixty-two years later, we are still married.
We don’t usually post photos of roadkill, but today we made an exception. We removed a birdie from the street.
Hey, cut us some slack. We can only work with the material we find out there.
Nope.
Still not Sonic the Hedgehog.
Uh-oh, another lost magnetic sign.
Somewhere, a novice driver is driving around in an unmarked car.
Guys doing what guys do.
A lost photo booth strip, and perhaps a few brain cells.
More election drama in Woodinville.
Every election, there are not only the usual ‘Elect Me’ signs, but also ‘Anti-Elect Him/Her’ signs like this one.
We found a lost wheel hub ornament, undamaged, made of a machined alloy, and about three inches across.
After some digging, we identified it as a genuine center cap from a custom wheel manufacturer: Work Wheels, specifically their VS series. These aren’t offered by the company, but an aftermarket seller lists a set of four for $220, putting this lone cap’s street value at around $55.
So, keep your eyes peeled for someone rolling around with a fancy wheel missing its bling. If we match it up, we’ll split the profit with you. Finder’s fee included.
This is what happens when you drive to work while doing final touches on your hairdo.
Then when you get cut off, your car, not your hair, you reach out the window to show your displeasure.
We found yet another spoon in the road. At this point, we’re starting to wonder if we’re mapping an underground cutlery migration.
And do the forks move ahead of the herd to mark the ‘forks in the road?’
For about a month now, we have seen a tent in some trees near some Bothell City property. First, we thought it was some kids camping out, but soon realized some adults had taken up residence. Today, they were gone.
But not their trash. We spent about twenty minutes sorting out the recycling and filling a large plastic bag with the garbage. Fortunately, the city had a large garbage dumpster nearby, and we deposited the garbage bag in it. We don’t understand why they trash the area.
We picked up a Concealed Carry License.
It was in the gutter, neither concealed nor carried.
Well, this is a first for us. A used drug test cup including urine.
Some people toss coffee cups out the window. Others throw away their future, one urine sample at a time. This one tested positive for cocaine. And poor life choices. But at least it doesn’t indicate he’s pregnant.
With that, we wrap up another TrashWalking week. Our Inventory:
Sixty-one cents. Another mediocre week. We started the week with twenty-seven cents on Monday at Janet’s favorite drive-thru, but it went downhill from there.
On the left, a light woman’s shirt/jacket at the park-and-ride with a half-used ChapStick in the pocket, and on the right, a soiled pair of a man’s underwear. The shirt will make it to Goodwill, and the underwear made it into the garbage.
In the center is a cap with an embroidered insignia, ‘Yesterday-Today-Tomorrow-Since 1872, K-C at its Best.’ It took a while to figure out that it appears to be a King County cap for some employee event. But King County was named after Vice President William R. King in 1852. The name was then reinterpreted in 1986 in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. So, what about 1872? It’s the year,
- Seattle’s first brick building was constructed.
- The first coal train railroad started operating through King County.
- Ice cream was first sold in the region, thanks to newly imported ice.
Okay, so perhaps it was in celebration of the guy who owns the ice cream concession at the King County cafeteria. Or perhaps it doesn’t mean King County at all. It’s a mystery.
Two urine containers. A McUrine cup that we thought we were done with, and a tea bottle with post-processed tea. Actually, we picked up three, counting the drug testing cup.
Two tools, first, an official Milwaukee ice pick, perfect for cracking ice or making your coworkers think twice before stealing your lunch. Let’s face it: you’ve got to keep the brewskis cold on the worksite.
The second was a Ryobi 40-volt, 18-inch Pole Hedge Trimmer. This was tossed in the bushes by the side of the road. We saw it about five weeks ago and left it, assuming someone would retrieve it. Today, we dragged it out and hauled it home. Normally, abandoned power tools are as functional as wet toast. But this one? Plugged in, powered up, and purred like a caffeinated cat. And, yes, we still have all our fingers. So far.
- 61 Cents.
- 15 Balls, the game kind, not the other kind.
- 4 Lost brain cells, at least.
- 3 Articles of clothing including a mystery cap.
- 3 Urine containers.
- 2 Tools with no lost fingers.
- 2 Roadkill rats, a good week. Well not for the rats, but for the rabbits.
- 2 Nostalgic beer containers.
- 1 Poop bag/rubber glove flashback, best forgotten.
- 1 Deceased Ooowee.
- 1 Epoxied parking lot, or skating rink.
- 1 Plexiglass Celtic.
- 1 Roadkill, stretching it for a birdie.
- 1 Unmarked impatient driver.
- 1 Nasty campaign.
- 1 Expensive wheel part.
- 1 Migrating spoon.
- 1 Mess of transient trash.
- 1 Unconcealed, uncarried license.
- 0 for two Sonic the Hedgehogs.
Have a great week, and remember to keep your concealed carry permit concealed.
Trash Walking 