I have had a couple of conversations the past week or so about sentimentality. There are lots of variations of being sentimental. Just having feelings of nostalgia and loving attachments to memories or things, is one thing. Having the desire or need (or perceived need) to hang onto physical items from our lives is another.

One of the conversations I had was with a friend who saw me loading some items into the back of the truck. It was an obvious preparation for a trip to the dump. She walked over and was kind of in shock. Then she saw that my wife was there too.

Then it all made sense to her. She couldn’t imagine that I, alone, without supervision, was actually getting rid of some things. The things included an old rusty “Radio Flyer” (not very red) wagon with some broken parts. When she mentioned the wagon, I began to re-think throwing it away.

I said, “Maybe I could use that wagon as part of a decorative flower bed. Wouldn’t that be fun?” The women shook their heads and looked at me as if I was ready for the “nut house.” (Later, the friend’s husband wished that he could have gotten the wagon.)

It’s hard for some of us to let go of a sentimental, yet useless, possession. Sentimentality is often not connected to usefulness. Sentimentality often trumps usefulness. Otherwise, why would I continue to keep a size medium Jimi Hendrix T-shirt, when there’s little chance that I’ll ever wear that size of shirt again?

I don’t want anyone to think that me getting rid of some things is the start of a trend. I don’t see myself parting ways with sentimental possessions except in a gradual, thoughtful (slow) way.

For instance, you don’t really expect me to just abruptly get rid of the 36 inches by 24 inches seascape oil painting that I rescued from being donated to the thrift store, do you? It was part of my in-law’s belongings, which were being disposed of after they were gone.

That painting hung on the living room wall of my wife’s parents when I first met them in Stafford Springs, Connecticut in 1977. When they moved to Utah, the painting was displayed prominently in their retirement home in St. George.

The artist’s autograph on the painting is a hard to read, un-findable on the Internet, (“S Mazetty” — maybe?). I wouldn’t think that the piece would be considered valuable by anyone who didn’t have a sentimental attachment. It hangs on my office wall and is soothing to stare into. For me, it evokes memories, fantasies and mystery.

Well, I’ve become distracted. Sorry. I’m finally getting to what this column is titled. One of the main types of sentimentality that I had on my mind recently has to do with vehicles

About five years ago, we got rid of a red, 1998 Ford Windstar van. (I like red wagons, what can I say?) It took a “minute,” but I eventually was able to say goodbye to the old “girl.”

A few minutes spent online filling out “paperwork” resulted in The Kidney Foundation sending a truck to pick up and haul away that long time “friend.” The van hadn’t been registered or running properly for a couple of years. We got a receipt for the donation and hopefully “Kidney Kars” derived some dollars that will help someone somewhere.

That old, red van was a memory-making vehicle. It went all over the place. Among other states, it went to California many times. We drove in it down Lombard Street in San Francisco (the “crookedest street in the world). We motored down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills.

That van went to Disney Land multiple times, including a trip when we lent the vehicle to neighbors so they could fit their kids into a more comfortable ride.

I thought of some of those vehicle memories when I sprayed the wasp nest under the hood and put the title on the dashboard in preparation for the “goodbye.”

I think many Sanpeters have sentimental attachments to their vehicles. Some of those vehicles actually run. And some don’t. I had a neighbor who had more than one derelict car at his place. He had a harder time than me letting go of cars that really weren’t doing much other than providing habitat for wasps, spiders, rodents, and who knows what.

On the other hand, there are some really cool Sanpete cars that have been maintained or restored. These vehicles are fun and full of memories. We see some of them at the car shows in Sanpete during the year.

We like seeing VW cars in the shows. My parents went through a few Volkswagens over the years.

My oldest brother came home from his Australia/New Guinea church mission in the early 1960s with a VW Bug which he bought in Germany. (It took him a few months to find his way home.) The little car sailed with him on the Queen Elizabeth ocean liner to New York and was then driven home to Utah.

That inspired a series of VW ownerships by my parents including a Beetle, a Squareback wagon, a Dasher, and a 1978 “Campmobile.” The Campmobile ended up with me and we still have it. My kids and extended family have many memories with that vehicle.

As a newly licensed driver, my son was reluctant to use it as a “drive to school” vehicle. I told him that we could get a bumper sticker for it. The sticker would read: “Don’t Laugh, Your Daughter Might Be Inside.” We never got the sticker, but I believe all my kids warmed up to the “coolness factor” of the VW bus mystique.

Watch for the Campmobile in a future car show in Sanpete when some degree of the current restoration work is completed. That vehicle has been from coast to coast a few times, including Key West, FL, and to Mexico several times. If it could talk, it could tell some stories.

I think you get the idea. Sentimentality being connected to automobiles has a long history. I suspect many Sanpeters have that connection. Every person has a story. And so does every car. — Merrill