The End of an Era

All good things must come to an end, as they say. And so that is how on the 22nd of July in the year 2011 I said goodbye to my dear, dear friend the jet ski. I think back fondly to the day I first laid eyes upon the yellow, pink, and purple Seadoo. What an ugly piece of shit, I believe, are the words that first entered my mind. It was a majestic machine that evoked memories of days long past with its 80s-style graphics. As if it were a time machine I found myself back in my early childhood, wearing four pairs of socks in alternating (neon) colors and my hair so crimped it practically broke right off if you touched it.

It was so much more than just a machine that had the potential for flying across the water at high(ish) rates of speed. And it was so much more than just a fond reminder of my youth. It was an intricate piece that kept the far right corner and upper left corner of the garage together. It was a constant source of inspiration for not only me but for my darling, Marcus, as well. For me, the jet ski was a metaphor for my life: slowly getting older but still yearning to feel young and vibrant. For Marcus, the jet ski was a battle he would not lose. He would not let this jet ski down and he would fix it. Once. And. For. All.

So, it came to pass that one day Marcus did just that. He fixed it. And it ran. For longer than 20 minutes.

I soon found myself standing in the driveway watching Marcus drive out of sight, towing the jet ski behind him. Tears formed in my eyes as I remembered all of our good times. Where would I go from here? What could possibly take the place of my beloved? As I turned to head back in I found my answer. The arcade game “Ivan Stewart’s Off Road” sat, beckoning me from the far reaches of the garage with its blue painters tape holding the mother board in place and truly inspired 80s computer graphics. Ah, yes! How could I forget? The very first thing that followed Marcus home after we were married and which, in turn, was the very first thing of his that I despised. I had put so much time and energy into my relationship with the jet ski that I had practically forgotten about “ISOR*.”  I feel as if I have come full circle. 

*Quick side note: After typing that acronym I can’t help but be amused by the fact that it can be pronounced as “eye sore”.

So long, sucker!