Of Old Shoes and First Cars

I was terrified to find that I have a hole in the sole of my left shoe. The telltale signs of damp feet and embarrassing linoleum born noises held true; there was only a flap of thin rubber left between my feet and the the dew-covered grass beneath them.

As shoes go, they were never the best of pairs, but as I hadn’t the pocket-cash for real Docs, I made do with them.

Berlin, Dresden, Munich, Rome, Venice, the Czech Republic, New York; my fifty dollar investment had served me well.

Odd how one bonds with inanimate objects, though—something faintly wrong about it.

I recall apologizing to my first car upon selling her to some elderly man, who I knew would never take her out to spin donuts on the year’s first snow-day or drive her home backwards just for bragging rights.

“We’ve had some good times Bernice,” I sputtered while gently patting her door panel.

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

I forgave her for not getting me to the Hope Sandoval concert—that was the tipping point after all, but in the end it was all my fault. I should have taken better care of her.

I threw the shoes in the trash bin.

-mixtape

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Tags: Random, Personal, First, Car, Old, Shoes

~ by mixtape on May 8, 2007.