Monday, May 16, 2005
I was at the grocery store yesterday and as I was leaving, a 65 mustang caught my eye. I stared at it as I was pulling out of the parking lot, thinking it sure looked a lot like my first car. It couldn’t have been though; it was too tore up to be my old car. If it was my old car, it was just a shell of what it use to be. I ended up turning around to get another look at it. Sure enough it was my old car. I got out of my truck to get a better look at it.
It still had a Speedo sticker on the back window, a marker of my swimming days. It still had the same rims, wool seat covers and stereo. It was saddening to see the condition of this car. I use to have so much pride in it, washing, shinning and waxing it almost every weekend. Now the paint no longer shined, the chrome rims were dull and dingy, and the tinted windows were faded. The wheels didn’t even match. The owner had begun to sand down the paint on parts of the car. The car was in a horrid condition. What had they done to my car? My heart was broken over the neglect of what was once a beautiful car that always turned heads.
I began to compare myself to my first car. I realized I am not much of what I use to be either. I have begun to fade in so many ways myself. My hairline has begun to recede, I am not longer as tan as I use to be, and the body that I had developed from swimming everyday and lifting weights is long gone.
But, you know, the death of the Mike Wallace of 1995 it a good thing. And maybe the death of my Mustang is a good thing too. Not all death is bad you see. With death, there is renewal. Since the car still ran, and it looked as if the owner was slowly restoring the car, there was a hope. Hope that the car would become better than it was.
The same hope kinda holds true for me. A hope that, as I continue to die and fade throughout my life, I will be renewed. I will become even better than what I was before. That I will one day become fully restored.
It still had a Speedo sticker on the back window, a marker of my swimming days. It still had the same rims, wool seat covers and stereo. It was saddening to see the condition of this car. I use to have so much pride in it, washing, shinning and waxing it almost every weekend. Now the paint no longer shined, the chrome rims were dull and dingy, and the tinted windows were faded. The wheels didn’t even match. The owner had begun to sand down the paint on parts of the car. The car was in a horrid condition. What had they done to my car? My heart was broken over the neglect of what was once a beautiful car that always turned heads.
I began to compare myself to my first car. I realized I am not much of what I use to be either. I have begun to fade in so many ways myself. My hairline has begun to recede, I am not longer as tan as I use to be, and the body that I had developed from swimming everyday and lifting weights is long gone.
But, you know, the death of the Mike Wallace of 1995 it a good thing. And maybe the death of my Mustang is a good thing too. Not all death is bad you see. With death, there is renewal. Since the car still ran, and it looked as if the owner was slowly restoring the car, there was a hope. Hope that the car would become better than it was.
The same hope kinda holds true for me. A hope that, as I continue to die and fade throughout my life, I will be renewed. I will become even better than what I was before. That I will one day become fully restored.
