I made the phone call yesterday, you know. Yes, that dreaded phone call to the junk yard asking them how much they would give me for my car in its bear market condition. They gave me the numbers over the phone, without promises of course, and I conceded.

_{(I know this image makes you uncomfortable... good!)}

It's time... time to let menomovil go to the special farm. I mean, it served me well, I've not heard of a ford focus that made it to 200k miles before mine, and I'm sure it's not a common feat for an american car to begin with. So, I'm not upset, not really.

Back in the day...

When I was a full time musician and what have you I drove so much, I ended up hating my time on the road. Of course, as with many other musos who dwell in the floridian swamps, I had a day job and had to balance my life between being an adult, and singing in bars.

This older version of me had to leave his work at 9pm, drive for an hour, setup the stage, play for three hours and breakdown everything while the world slept. Then, drive back home for an hour or more, rinse and repeat. I sure don't miss that part, not at all.

But my little car, my old ford focus was my companion through the whole thing. Always with all the seats down to fit as much as I could. Always full of cables, and miscellaneous gear. As a matter of fact, I'm about to go out there and make sure a guitar pedal is not hiding in the backseat (I remember seeing one) before I take it to it's ceremonial burial grounds.

Time to walk more I guess

And that is a good thing my friends. I've been slowly but surely losing the belly and feeling younger. So maybe this alignment of "bad" events is just precisely the little push I needed to for the final mile to a better me, right? I mean, I can't rule out that the universe is conspiring in my favor, or vice versa... (hrmm... latter is no good)