The Jawas of Humanity

We have a lot of junk trucks in our neighborhood. They show up, for the most part, on garbage nights, the night before the morning garbage pick up.

They are pretty recognizable: Last legs, late model ’80s pickup trucks, with shocks that creak under the weight of the discarded metals being carried within its payload. Slowly creeping down the street, in search of dead air conditioners, rusted shelving and copper wire, the truck accumulates waste throughout the night. By dawn, the shocks are creaking louder, and the payload is near capacity. I’m not 100% sure, but I assume these trucks and their inhabitants are collecting metal to be recycled, which pays them money.

And that is why I call them the Jawas of Humanity.