As I've said before, the car can be another clutter magnet. More specifically, one type of item that seems to linger around is the paid stub for the parking garage or parking lot.
Why DO we hold on to these things? Several reasons, I suppose. Maybe we figure that if we paid so much for a damn parking spot, we're reluctant to throw away the one piece of evidence we get to take home. Maybe we figure that we can secretly resuse them in the same lot in the future. Though I doubt that would actually work. Perhaps they're souvinirs. Regardless, I seemed to acquire quite a variety of them.
The one you see above on the left is a painful memory. When I first started working in the Boston area, I couldn't even get a parking space in my company's garage. We were sharing it with other companies, and basically there was already a waiting list just to get a spot. So I had to pay for a space in a nearby lot, every damn day. And that was only if THEY weren't full. They hand me one of these damn things to put in the windshield.
On top of that, they started construction of a new building right behind the lot, which made it harder and harder to find a way to walk through. You had to walk all the way around several blocks to get to work. In the Boston winters, this was brutal. At some point I made rough maps of the construciton site and tried to find other ways through. And I wasn't the only one, judging from some of the cuts in the fencing. I DID eventually get to upgrade to the garage though.
As for the "Diabetes Drive" piece, I really have no idea where this came from. It's obviously designed to hang from the rear view mirror, but I just can't remember why I had this. The closest I ever got to supporting a diabetes cause was buying bottles of Bret Michaels' Trop-a-Rocka Snapple (which I have to admit, tastes damn good).
Here's one I got from my friend who didn't have a car at the time, but since she was renting an apartment that meant I could use this temporary pass to park in the "residents only" section. Too bad it expired in March 2001.