It was one of those classic, imbecilic boo boos that birders are famous for. The ol’ “left the binoculars on the roof of my car and drove away” maneuver.
I’ve done it before, of course. Way back. Beat up a perfectly good pair of Zeiss 10×40 Classics by leaving them on the roof of a VW Rabbit and engaging the clutch before engaging my mind.
Next time I saw that fated instrument it was framed in my rearview mirror and bouncing merrily down the road. Of course it was functionally fine. Little cosmetic damage. Little ding on the lens. Guts were fine.
Those Germans really know how to build ‘em.
I thought I’d learned my lesson. I thought a person only pulled this bone-headed maneuver once-in-a-lifetime and then you had dispensation. I’ve written whole essays about this classic stupidity (since now I presumed myself immune).
Nevertheless, I chastened myself, this past Saturday, as I placed my Leica 7×42 binoculars on the roof of my ten year old Toyota 4-Runner. A vehicle that has never been caressed by a car wash or known soap. A paint job that started out red and is now closer to rust.
The car my wife calls: “The Pit.”
I said, “Self, you know better than to put your binoculars on top of the car like that.”
Naughty, naughty. Don’t forget them.
I did forget them. I know this because halfway through the jacket changing exercise that had prompted me to remove the instruments from my neck, I chanced to see them sitting on the roof and reminded myself AGAIN not to forget to take them off the roof.
Less than fifteen seconds later I got in the car and drove away. Destination: Turkey Point, New Jersey. Seven miles. Two hard lefts; two hard rights, four stop signs, and four runs through the gears away.
Average speed? Yeah. I guess it was about average for someone in a hurry.
When I reached my standard parking spot, I killed the engine. Reached over for the binoculars that are always on the passenger seat (when they are not around my neck). Finding them in neither place I suffered a moment’s puzzlement, which morphed into a half a second of concern, that exploded into a super-nova sized burst of pure, nauseating realization.
My first reaction was to start the car and retrace my route.
My second reaction was to get out and see if maybe…
The binoculars were sitting on the roof of the car. Just where I’d left them.
What’s the moral to this story?
That so long as you buy traction-enhanced rubber armored binoculars and never wash and wax your car; you can be stupid and get away with it.
Second best reason I’ve ever found for not washing a car.
The first, of course, is conservation.
Water conservation?
No. Energy. Who wants to waste precious energy washing a car when they could be birding?
That’s even more stupid than leaving binoculars on top of your car.