I hadn’t noticed it had gotten this bad.
On a Taco Bell/Dollar Tree run for two bean burritos (no onions), triple-layer nachos, earbuds, deodorant and peanut butter wafers, I noticed the damage to Gabi’s hood. Dings, that grew. Dings, that, with miles and sun and more miles, started to peel.
Gabi’s Stormtrooper-white finish, pocked with primer and rust spots.
She’s not the only one. I once could claim months, years, even, of sick-free existence. Lately, germs and conditions seem to be parading on my doctor’s file. It happens without notice. One day, you’re motoring down the highway. Next, you’re on cinder blocks.
The dings don’t keep her down, though.
I’ll need Gabi at her motoring best, which she’s best at, this fall. Elise’s home games will be in Asheville, but the schedule will likely have her everywhere from Kentucky to the Carolinas to Florida. Marie’s first tournament will be in Roanoke, Va.
That doesn’t even include Grace’s schedule.
So, the paint. It’s not a big deal on Gabi. Sure, she was Stormtrooper smooth in her youth. So was I. We’re both now a bit like the Millennium Falcon. You know, beat up and creaky, but able to bust a little T.I.E. fighter ass and hit hyperspeed when needed.