One man’s trash is a Pittsburgher’s treasure. Pittsburghers like stealing other people’s garbage. To be fair, they usually don’t snatch up bags of food scraps, and dad’s favorite recliner that grandma wet herself on probably looks great in Kelly’s first big-girl apartment.
On the average eve of a Pittsburgh workday, Toyota 4Runners and Ford Broncos scour the curbs at dusk. Pittsburghers usually stick to the buddy system, but sometimes retreat for help if the object of desire is too heavy for an Ocean’s Two-style heist. They come armed with bungee cords, a desk dolly, rope, duct tape, and a rehearsed speech regarding their right to rummage through the trash because the municipality owns the first five feet of your yard. Pittsburghers don’t “mess ah’rand.”
Pittsburghers like it when people throw out bikes. This saves the slight embarrassment of thieving trash in front of someone’s house. One rubbish-bandit can quickly exit the truck, let it drive away, then hop on the bike and reconvene with the getaway car down the block for shameless hauling.
Pittsburghers like to think that anything with scratches, stains, or a general worn-out character is an antique. To throw away an old Cabbage Patch doll in Pittsburgh is to ensure its eternal resting place in an illuminated china cabinet beside a Jeff Gordon plate.
In lieu of this, Pittsburghers claim to be green because of their constant “recycling” of junk.
If you’re ever en route to a Pittsburghers house and happen to see an old mattress, armoire, desk chair, or plastic Playskool slide on someone’s curb, notify your host upon arrival. He will reply, “Nu-uh!” Whether said Pittsburgher needs one of these items or not, he will definitely go back for it “‘cause, hey, ya never know, ya know.” You will most likely be forced into roadside raid and, as a result, a long-term friendship.
Just remember to “warsh your hands.”
ajgrieco
