I’m no expert on Dumpster diving, but I do have fond memories of hopping into neighborhood Dumpsters from about age six or seven up until I decided I was too cool for it, maybe around 11 or 12. Some people argue that despite the “diving” moniker, scavenging doesn’t have to involve actually going into the trash can, but for my little brother and me, the main draw was getting inside and rooting around (the hooks on the front of the Dumpsters that allowed trucks to pick them up also made for excellent footholds). We must not have gone that often, because I can’t remember turning up anything more exciting than some old wicker baskets and discarded tiles—though I believe we were pretty excited about those finds.