So, I took a little break.
One of us, either the character or the real guy, decided it would be a good idea to go back to school, begin studying a new language, and to try and get back in shape all at the same time. At least one of those things means cutting back on the drugs and alcohol that honestly helps, well…, everything except going back to school, learning a new language or getting back in shape. But, this blog is partially responsible for every smile, so I guess I’ll have a drink or two and polish up a thought from last winter that did not make the cut.
My Old Fiat
A few days ago I was walking to work in my new gray wool traditional cut pea coat with a gray and black scarf around my neck wrapped and tucked just right, and black tailor fit slacks. The slacks were not slim but not loose and slightly rolled to expose just a little more of my black palladium boots. Yup, I was looking pretty good. However, my knees hurt, my arm was sore as it is still recovering from an old injury, and I was feeling every bit of abuse that I have brought upon myself over the last decade or two (or more) that I have been on this earth. For some reason, I started thinking about my old Fiat convertible.
A few years ago (or more), when I was in high school, I decided to invest in a Fiat. That probably was not my best investment, but I’ve recently lost a lot more on 3D technology stocks, so it was not my worst. I learned a lot about vehicle maintenance, and it gave me an opportunity to spend time with my dad, as we seemed to be constantly under the hood or under the car trying to keep her on the road. Somehow, sometimes with bailing wire and duct tape, we kept it running pretty well, at least for a while.
Even on a bad day that little car turned heads. I remember girls just wanting me to give them a ride in the car. As long as I kept her clean and looking good on the outside and, at least, pretending to run well on the inside, it was a cool car to own. However, as she got older, it got harder to get her started in the morning. And, at some point, I became weary of giving rides because I was not sure when she was going to stop.
I guess I felt like that Fiat that morning. I was all polished up but felt like I was being held together with bailing wire and duct tape. I guess I still turn a head or two, and that’s nice, but it’s sure hard to get started now and then. And, I feel all the damage as I try not to limp or hold my arm while I walk. Even my friends comment on how the chicks (is that offensive… funny) still seem to like me, but I assure them that the younger ones are just thinking that they should have brought their mothers with them. And, well I’m a little wearier of giving rides very often because I am not sure when I may just have to stop.
My guess is that old Fiat may be sitting somewhere in need of repair and she might get back on the road one day, turn a few heads, and give a few rides.
Whatever the case, it sure was easier replacing parts on that old car.
Thanks for stopping by.
Sunday, July 17, 2016