In episode 7, “Many Happy Returns”, of the 1960s British TV series The Prisoner, Number 6 (Patrick Mcgoohan) is shown emptying a 55-gallon drum of what appears to be spent motor oil, down a storm drain. I'm assuming this planted a seed in 11-year-old me's brain, the idea that storm drains flow towards a processing plant somewhere, in which all such pollutants are removed and properly disposed of. I have memories of myself in my 20s, thinking how clever I was changing my oil over a storm drain in NYC, my two passenger-side tires up on the curb to give me enough room to get underneath for access to the plug.
I don't know when I finally learned the truth of the matter, that storm drains by necessity flow directly to the nearest body or water, it being well-nigh impossible to construct a holding pond large enough to hold the quantities of water released in a downpour, but it was definitely made clear to me when, in 2003, I came to California and saw the “Flows to Ocean” and similar signs next to storm drains everywhere.
There's no way now to atone for my decades of stupidly dumping toxins into the commons. But this story will help people to understand why I'm such an intolerant environmentalist now.