By Armando Huerta © 2005
Life memories. Going once, Going twice... SOLD to the lady in the polyester jumpsuit!
As we are once again moving to another country, we decided to take the opportunity to streamline our possessions by getting rid of bulky items and concentrating on books, family heirlooms, paintings, etc.. We figured that this would be the perfect time to fit all of our things into a storage unit permitting us to hop from full-service flat to full-service flat as our needs/desires dictate.
Figuring out what we were going to sell was pretty straightforward, all the furniture, appliances and electronics since we have less of a connection to them. Or so we thought.
It's always disconcerting to put your items on sale subjecting them to ridicule, harsh comments or just plain disinterest. Every time someone comes by to see something of yours for sale that you're treasured for years it's rather unnerving to see them roll their eyes or say something rude. My favorite: "Wow... this club chair really is comfortable. Too bad it's so ugly." This about an Italian chair we found at a famed design store marked 50% percent off where Jeremy literally grabbed the price tag before another couple could and we raced them to the register to buy it first.
Or the dining room table that I spent a year searching for after moving to a larger Boston apartment that would actually hold a full sized dining table. The only thing prospective buyers see is the fact that one of the chairs has a nick on the corner. What I see is a dear wine-soaked friend of mine, flushed face and giggling, pulling back from the table in a grand movement only so he could stand up in order to gesticulate better to the hysterical story he was telling all of us with tears rolling down our faces.
Or saying goodbye to the stainless steel stove, which thankfully was sold in less than two minutes with no rude comments, where many a nights I’d be cooking on, glass of red wine in hand, while listening to laughter and clinking glasses emanating from the rest of the apartment.
The one item that I completely did not expect to miss was the mountain bike I bought my second day at grad school, over 10 years ago. I had forgotten how I was practically fused to the frame of my bike those grad school years, I was riding it so much. While I never named the thing (though Maximillian would have been cool), I did treasure it. After all, this was the bike I'd peddle to class every day in the 100+ degree Phoenix heat. Course, as everyone would always say, "but it's a dry heat..."
It's a dry heat? What the fuck!?! The dry heat might make the air seem 10 degrees cooler but it's still fucking HOT people! This was the bike I rode back from the campus pub one night after hours of drinking with my friends only to hit a stop sign half a block from my house. Bike was fine, I however, was knocked out for 30 minutes and my sunglasses literally wrapped themselves around the pole. This was the bike that I'd take out to the White Tank Mountains in Western Phoenix at least twice a week. The bike being my only company and salvation as I biked through the dessert mountains for hours with no one around for tens of miles, taking in the still desolate landscape and allowing myself time to think about my life.
Alas, tonight there is someone coming by to see, and more than likely purchase, Maximilian. I'm glad he'll continue seeing the beaches and mountains of Rio de Janeiro for a while longer instead of the inside of a storage unit. I just hope the buyer has only positive things to say or they'll be seeing my foot on their ass as I kick them out the door.
Armando Huerta is a smart-ass who will soon be leaving Brazil.