I’m not sure how it worked out this way but most of my important possessions are, shall we say, timeworn. I should hasten to amend that statement slightly. My wife is not old nor timeworn — she is as young and as beautiful as ever. Wanted to make sure I slipped that in just in case the boys decided to get up a golf outing. Now that we have all that straightened out here’s a partial list of my old stuff.
I drive a car and sometimes a truck and both past the timeworn stage and well on into their dotage. Right at this moment, my old truck needs a starter and a transmission so I’m on the lookout to find younger parts (read used) to take their place. I’d be grateful to be able to haul off the trash without having to take a hammer to the starter or sit and wait on the ornery transmission to engage so I can be on my way. My car, which has a mere 320,000 miles on it, makes a funny screeching noise when it’s cranked up first thing in the morning — really loud too. In that sense it is kind of like its owner — I tend to screech a little when I first get up but it lasts only until the coffee is ready. So I’m putting off worrying about the car racket because the vehicle will actually move forward and backward on command.
Then there’s my cellphone. As you may have already guessed it’s old, too. Maybe not so much old as behind the times. Nearly everyone in the civilized world, it seems, has one of those internet phones but not me. I have, to use the technical vernacular, a flip phone. It is a very cool item for me. Remarkably I can call someone in Alaska, New York or California in the blink of an eye but I don’t know anyone in those places so I just call my buddies in Madison. I am also able to send text messages to other people but that takes more than an eye blink because it requires time to punch in all those little letters. My texts usually read something like this – “Yes,” “No,” or “Maybe” so I get by. As for the internet phones, I don’t usually need to know how the stock market is doing or what the traffic is like in Atlanta, so it doesn’t make much sense for me to have one.
There are additional advantages to having old vehicles and old phones. No one will steal them. No self-respecting thief would ever be seen trying to pawn a flip phone and the same goes for an old vehicle. When I was working at Crossroads (school) I always left my keys in the ignition and the truck window down. Not once did either go missing. In fact, a deputy superintendent from the Georgia Department of Education came by one day and marveled at that very fact. He said he’d never seen anything quite like it. I advised him that no one would steal those things because it would actually be an embarrassment and could cause one to lose social status with his fellow bandits.
Because no one will steal my old stuff I’m actually thinking about doing away with the insurance on my car, truck, phone and the homeowner’s section that covers theft. I think I’ll keep my life and health insurance because these old body parts have a tendency to wear out at an alarming rate.
But back to the old stuff.
My fishing poles are old, my lawnmower is older, and my golf clubs were made in the era before the Golden Bear (Jack Nicklaus) was a cub. As for the golf clubs, I have to put up with the snooty looks from my golf partners who take one glance at those ancient sticks and snicker. Then they see me hit a ball and begin to offer advice on how much better I could be had I the sense to get some new-fangled equipment. But I like the old ones just fine.
I could go on and on about my old stuff. Chain saw, weed-eater, trailer, tools, sunglasses (the flip-down variety) and even my dog (Whoops, forgot he got so old he died) are all ancient. Heck even most of my clothes and hats are old and I take a fair amount of grief about that too but honesty compels me to report that they are comfortable if not fashionable. That’s just how I roll and it’s probably not going to change.
Truth is that having my old stuff around makes me feel at ease. At this stage of my life, I’m not looking to impress anyone and thus don’t care what they think.
It’s nice to be contented and comfy with my worn-out stuff. And it’s really nice to be comfortable in my old, old skin.
Email stories about the merits of your old stuff to firstname.lastname@example.org.