Walk

It’s the little things, sometimes, that get you.

Well, me, anyway.

I won’t say that before life went to hell in a handbasket on a buttered slide (heh), I was blind to the little things. But it was easy to overlook them, until I realized I didn’t have [THAT THING] anymore. I don’t mean just the material goods, either.

Let’s talk about…walking.

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Photo

For those who’ve been curious, here’s my poor totaled Beast, as seen at the body shop the day before it was hauled off by the salvage company:

 

Twenty-one years of good and faithful service.  Thank you, Beast.

Car

I bought it new off the lot.

It had maybe 17 miles on the odometer from someone else’s test drive(s).  Bright and silver-shiny, it was a “special edition” version of its kind, and I bought it for several reasons, one of which was its anti-lock brake system, a hot new thing 21 years ago.  I had toyed with buying the other color combo — metallic blue-green with ivory leather interior — but I realized that in the long run, and even in the short run, ivory leather was way outside the borders of practical upkeep, so silver with black leather for me!

I even tried to name it, but nothing ever stuck.  Generally, I wound up calling it my Beast.

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