HC hit me like a ton of bricks as I was walking in the bank to pay off my car loan. It was playing on some speakers outside near the bank, and I just knew it was a nice omen to go along with the monumental occasion.
After four years of fighting with the meanest loan officer in the world (that means you, Mr. Plyman) I finally own my very own bucket of bolts.
Four years ago it was a nice looking, well running, five-year-old car.
Today?
Some things get better with age, like wine or cigars.
My car is not one of those things.
I made that final payment anyway. $588 and change for four wheels in my very own name.
Have you ever had a moment in your life where you feel like it belongs in a movie? The scene, the costumes, the audio, perfect for some kind of screenplay you know the audience would identify with?
Well, that's how I felt when I walked out of that bank. Proud I had suffered through all those damn car payments despite a myriad of other financial foibles. Relieved that for now I have a little bit more room in the 'ol budget to do fun stuff (or more responsibly, to pay off other debts.)
I stepped out of the bank and a band started playing. Literally. It wasn't a high school band, although that would have been really cool if there were a parade in my honor. The band was next door doing a promotion for a barbecue restaurant, but at that moment, they were playing just for me. The guitar, the crashing drums, as I walked towards my little car I felt like the whole world was celebrating my financial freedom from The Bank.
Today was a little triumph for Kate.
And that's fine by me if that's all we get... little triumphs. As long as they come every once in a while, and add to my already pretty cool soundtrack.
1 comment:
Hotel California... In college I took up blues harmonica just for fun. Not spectacular, but I could acquit myself nicely I think. Anyway, a couple of my roommates took up guitar. They could "jam" on Bob Dylan's "Hurricane," or Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide," neither of which to them had a beginning, middle, or end. They always tried to get me to play along with them, but their songs didn't have the blues structure I knew, and were just rhythm guitar parts for songs I didn't know very well anyway.
So, a year or two later at a wasted late night summer party, a really talented kid breaks out his guitar and starts playing "Hotel California." The hostess starts singing. Oddly, someone happened to be carrying a harmonica, which I commandeered for the song. The three of us played for nearly twenty minutes, just playing about as well as three unrehearsed amateurs who had never played together could. The song is basically a blues in structure, and it really helped to play with a guitarist who knew where he was going with it.
My roommates, who happened to be there as well, just figured I got good all of a sudden. I think they still play nothing but "Hurricane" to this day.
Thoughts from a random passerby...
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