Recently, I’ve realized a few things. They are all related, probably true, and in this order:

1. Despite having a largish garage with ample shelving, I feel like I’m running out of space.
2. I have too many parts for cars I no longer own.
3. I don’t expect to own any examples of those cars again.
4. If I do somehow purchase another example, it won’t need those parts, because…
5. I won’t be buying a project car, and…
6. What are the odds that the parts this theoretical car needs will line up with those in my stash?

My garage has less of the usual homeowner detritus than some, but that amount is not zero. It never will be zero, because even if you don’t do 90% of your own yardwork you still need some rakes, shovels, pots, dirt, etc. But that’s okay. The homeowner items don’t take up much room compared to the car stuff.

And the boxes of redundant tools.

Some of those should probably go away as well. Anyone need a brand-new Milwaukee circular saw? Or three soldering irons? How about eight putty knives?

Side note 1: Do I need a larger garage? Well, sure. Who doesn’t? I’d love to punch out the deeper side of the back wall and add 16×20 feet for another car or to just expand the available working space. It’s hard to sell that up the chain of command, however, when your home also needs new windows and a few bathroom renovations.

Really, I just need to purge.

Many years ago, I had a handy side business selling car parts and automotive literature on eBay for other folks. We made some decent money, and the parts went to good homes. Or they went to homes that club baby seals for sport. I don’t care either way because, so far as I know, the bits didn’t wind up in a landfill.

And that’s what I’m trying to avoid with all these parts I have now. They are mostly for the BMW E3 sedan – Bavaria, 3.0Si, etc. – but somehow I have other parts, too: an imperfect set of early E12 5-series tail lights; a European-market climate control panel for a B6 Volkswagen Passat; a brand new set of black floor mats for a fourth-generation Subaru Outback.

The E3 parts are a hodgepodge. I’m sure they are just leftovers from various cars I parted out over the years. When I had my 1972 Bavaria, holding on to some of these parts made sense. I might need that bag of hardware, that perfect orange corner lens, the working rear defroster switch, or that really nice interior sunroof panel. I never, ever would have needed the round outboard dashboard vents, the metal radio blank plate for an AC car (my car didn’t have AC), or the used brake fluid reservoir.

Instead of hawking them on eBay, I’m trying Facebook Marketplace and the various E3 groups. So far it’s not bad. People are reasonable and bits are moving out the door. I may try eBay again for the stuff that doesn’t sell on Marketplace.

Side note 2: I found pictures of some of these parts from 2014 in a folder labeled “eBay.” Either I tried to sell them before, or merely photographed them with intent. Either way, many of the parts are still here.

That’s a great plan. However, I do fear some of this stuff is going to wind up in the garbage. Honestly, there’s not much need for used inside door panel chrome strips, a bag of random sunroof hardware, or the aforementioned dashboard vents. I hate to just give up and bin everything, but my time is also no longer worth zero. Will it all wind up in the trash? Well…

There’s an old story that I read in probably the 1980s or 1990s. The details are fuzzy these days but it had to do with a famous race team owner who had racks and racks of parts at the back of his shop. It filled up a not-inconsiderable amount of space. All of the parts were in boxes, unmarked except for a date. There was a cocktail party at the shop one evening, and a couple of guests were chatting with the team owner. What was the deal with all the boxes?

“Oh,” said the owner. “I’ve stashed all my old racing stuff in those boxes. Stuff from all the way back to the late-fifties and early sixties, when we all raced sports cars, formula, drag, what have you. I kept all the spares, memorabilia, trophies, all of it. It’s a lot.”

“Wow!” said one of the guests. “You’re still active in the clubs and in racing. How do you keep track of everything? And how do you keep the shelves and the whole shop from overflowing with boxes?”

The team owner paused. “Well, over the years, as I packed away stuff, it just went in boxes and on the shelves. All the ones you see back there. Rather than labelling everything, I just put the date on it. I have a rule: If I haven’t opened the box in five years, I just throw it out. I don’t even look in it.”

The two guests stared, their mouths agape. “Oh my god. Does that really work?”

The team owner smiled. “Of course not.”