The second I saw what that man had gone to all that trouble to hide before he disappeared, I forgot to breathe, because the false bottom was packed with handwritten pages, hundreds of them, a manuscript, and clipped to the top page was a note: my whole life, in case I do not get to tell it.
I sat down on my carport step and began to read.
The man who owned the freezer had not fled from trouble, he had fled toward something, a last chance at a dream, and what he hid was the story of his entire life, too precious to risk losing.
The manuscript was extraordinary, the life of an ordinary man told with heart. His name was Walt. A hard childhood. A stint in the merchant marine. A great love, and its loss. Years of working jobs and raising kids and living, all set down in his own plain, honest voice.
And the notebook on top explained why he left in a hurry. Walt, in his later years, alone after his kids scattered, had finally decided to chase the one dream he never dared: he had saved up and set off to sail a small boat down the river and out to the sea, a voyage he had dreamed of since his merchant marine days. He knew it was risky at his age. So he had hidden his lifes story where it would be safe, in case he did not come back.
The last page read: If you are reading this, then maybe the old man did not make it back from his voyage, and that is alright, because I went out doing the one thing I always dreamed of. But I did not want my life to just disappear. If you have any kindness, find my kids. Give them my story. Tell them their old man finally chased his dream, and was happy at the end.
I could not let Walts life sit in a freezer.
I tracked down his children through the manuscript. And I learned that Walt had, in fact, passed, peacefully, during his river voyage, having made it most of the way to the sea he loved, doing exactly what he dreamed.
His children wept when I brought them his life story. They had been confused and hurt when their father took off on a boat and never came back. Now they had his whole life in his own words, and the knowledge that he died happy, chasing his dream.
I helped them get it printed, a real book, Walts life, one for each child and grandchild. His story lives on now, read by his family, and even by strangers at the local library, where they keep a copy.
I keep those wing nuts in a coffee can. My wife tells the story and nobody believes her, but they held down a mans whole life, and I got to carry it home to his children. I bought a dented freezer for thirty-five dollars. I ended up making sure a good man was never forgotten. Cheapest, richest thing I ever bought.