Oh, darn! What was I thinking???

[oldie moldy]

Over on the "Canoe Art" post, Christy was lamenting as how she let a prized rifle get away from her. Did that ever set up echos in my memory, hope to shout. I really don't understand how I'm so darn smart after the fact and so dumb during the commission of the stupidity. Sheer talent I guess.

But I suspect that I'm not alone in this, others must have heard the siren's call, been lured to some foolishment or another. If the memory isn't buried too deep and you feel like a little self flagellation, what valued possession have you let slip away?

Aw sigh........Rob

 

[ppine]

A turn of the century loop seat saddle that I rode for 35 years. It finally wore out and I traded it for a canoe that I sold for $700. I would gladly pay that to have it sitting in my living room. I have a really great saddle there to look at, but never rode the miles and memories like the old one.

 

[riverstrider]

I have left a nice fuzzy rubber farmer-john wetsuit sitting on the roof of my truck cap, drying, never to be seen again.

Twice. How bad is that?

-rs

 

[Canotrouge]

I had a few nice caribou skin that I use to use in the winter... Gave them away to a set of beautiful eyes... But I'll go get other one next fall, that i will keep for me!!

 

[red langford]

Wayne Gretzky rookie card. Given away or thrown away by my mother when I was out gallivanting about as a young man with one foot still at home and one foot out in the wild world. I had the whole set that year.

 

[Odyssey]

I've littered the world with possessions I've given away or lent. Most were treasured and missed, but none that bother me for very long. When I let them go, I try to really let them go. I can only think of one (actually two) things that still bother me a bit. They were two flint arrow heads. I don't remember where I found the second smaller one. The first one however still resonates with me.
I was around 12 years old, and was rambling around a muddy field near our home, when my little brother got his rubber boots stuck deep and fast. I did what every big brother has done since the dawn of time. I laughed and headed for home. "Last one home is a dirty rotten egg!" When I was kicking off my cloddy boots at the front door, my mom asked where I'd left my little brother. I helpfully pointed across the road to where the dirty rotten egg was wailing up to his knobby knees in muck. I was sent back to retrieve him. It seems he was irreplaceable. After pulling him from a certain muddy doom (but not before bargaining for his share of after supper's dessert) I looked down, and there it was. A flint arrow head about 2 inches long, with a small nick in the point. I used to wonder where it had been made, the seasons it's seen on hunting trips, and how it had been lost. Did it get damaged glancing off a tree, or piercing it's prey? Had there been a village nearby, or had the hunter wandered further in search of food? And also, had this projectile point been used for something other than hunting?
http://www.ontarioarchaeology.on.ca/summary/archaic.php
http://www.oocities.org/firefly1002000/pointsindex.html
It looked identical to a Susquehanna Archaic point.
Anyway, I kept and treasured that (and a second) arrowhead for many years. I'm sure I gave it to my eldest son, but he has no memory of that. And so they're both gone. Lost and found, and lost again. I'm still trying to really let them go.

 

[stripperguy]

I was 16 years old, working for a few years in assorted part time jobs...It was necessary for me to buy my own clothes and food, and I had a motorcycle and my MC license. My BIL (7 years older) offered to give me the 1961 Chevy sedan that he transplanted a V8 into. It no longer ran, but the body and interior were in excellent shape. Jet black and gleaming paint. Interior like new. I was working at a car wash then, my only days off were the dismal rainy days, I grew to appreciate them. I toiled for about two months of rainy days and spare time, finally getting the car ready for the road. I had just gotten my drivers permit for a car, saved my money for insurance and plates. I planned to put the car on the road the first thing Monday morning.

I got home from the car wash around 8:00 PM, typical for a Saturday night...immediately I noticed the Chevy was not in its usual spot at the end of the driveway.
"Where's my car?" I asked my mother.
"Oh that old thing!? We gave that to your cousin Frank" she said.
"WHAT? WHAT?? I have the registration for it, I'm putting it on the road next Monday. I worked on that car, MY car, for the last two months" I screamed. "You have to call him to get it back. It's MY car!!"
She replied calmly, "Oh, it's too late for that. He's doing some kind of derby with it tonight"
"A derby? What kind of derby? Not a demolition derby??!!
"Yeah" she says, "I think that's what it was"

It's been 42 years now...parents are dead and gone for decades, cousin Frank even longer. And guess what? I'm still pissed!!