What a Yard Full of Junk Cars Taught Me About People

By Wesley Rose

Drive through enough backroads in this country—Tennessee, South Carolina, Florida, California, and here in Virginia—and you’ll start to notice a pattern.

Cars. Everywhere.

Not traffic. Not commuters. Just… cars. Parked in driveways, tucked behind sheds, slumped in the grass like they’ve been sitting for years. Some with flat tires. Some with tarps. Some without tags. Most without explanation.

To the outsider, it may appear as clutter. Laziness. Even neglect.

But the more I’ve listened to people and paid attention, the more I’ve realized: it’s not clutter. It’s not laziness. It’s something more profound.

We Don’t Always Keep What’s Useful. We Keep What Feels Safe.

Some of the people I’ve met over the years have yards full of old vehicles. I’m talking trucks that don’t run, buses parked nose-first in the woods, even old ambulances and trailers. And I’ve got family like this too—properties full of long-idle machines.

It’s easy to roll your eyes and think, “Why don’t they just clean all that up?” But here’s the thing—some of them are sitting on serious value.

As of 2025, the average price for a junk car is approximately $350 per vehicle. I know someone whose land is home to well over 300 vehicles. You do the math—that’s over $100,000 in potential scrap value. And that doesn’t even include the value of trailers, tractors, and specialty vehicles.

To some, that appears to be a mess.
To others, it’s a retirement plan.
A fallback fund. A steel bank account.

That rust? That’s a reserve.

The White Noise of What We’ve Normalized

But not every vehicle is held onto with strategy. Sometimes it’s simpler than that.

Sometimes we hold on to things because we've just forgotten to let go. What started as a project became a placeholder. And then a fixture. Like the chirping smoke alarm you never replaced. Or the belt on your car that squeals, but not enough to make you do anything about it.

Over time, that clutter becomes white noise.
It’s still there—but you’ve stopped hearing it.
It bothers everyone else, but to you, it’s just part of the background.

It’s Not Just Metal in a Yard

We do this with more than cars.
We do it with habits. With coping mechanisms. With relationships.

We hang onto what might be useful someday.
Even if it's broken. Even if it's heavy. Even if it's holding us back.

That’s why this story isn’t really about junk cars.
It’s about what we hold onto—and why.

What Are You Still Holding?

So before you write someone off for having a yard full of stuff, maybe take a second and ask:

What have you kept around “just in case”?
What have you stopped seeing clearly because it’s been sitting in your life too long?
What are you holding onto—not because it’s helping you, but because it’s familiar?

Sometimes, the “junk” in someone’s yard is a story of survival.
Other times, it’s just a piece of their past they haven’t made peace with yet.

And maybe, just maybe—it’s time to clear a little space.