As I reminisce about days gone by, I realize that there are many things I will never do again. I have made a list. Some are by choice, and others are by necessity.
I will never again pump gas into a car behind its license plate. Or for you classic Volkswagen Beetle fans, under the hood. Or behind the taillight (for those of you who remember the fabulous ’56 Chevy Bel Air).
I will never again ride in the bed of a pickup truck. Somehow, I survived many long trips despite the fact I was a loose projectile.
I will never again eat twelve Krystal cheeseburgers at one sitting. When I was a teenager, that was considered a late-night snack. If I tried that today, it would be a 911 emergency.
I will never again get to enjoy a truly uninterrupted vacation. Once upon a time, your co-workers simply had to do without you for a week or two. Then came cellphones. “We can’t find that particular file. Let’s just call and ask David. He’s not doing anything anyway.”
I will never again change the ribbon on a typewriter, making my hands an inky mess. I can’t say that I miss that part, although I do miss the charming clackety-clack sound of my old Royal typewriter. A 7th grade teacher friend has a manual typewriter in his classroom as a conversation piece. Upon seeing the relic for the first time, many of the kids are stumped because they cannot find the “start” button.
I will never again have a glorious vinyl record collection. When compact discs came along, I got rid of almost all my records. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Turntables were disappearing from the earth, and I thought no one would ever buy a record again. A word to the wise: never ask me for advice.
I will never again call the customer service line when my electronic devices are down. It has taken me 30 years, but I finally get it. Wait for thirty minutes on hold, because my call is important to them. Then a guy named “Kevin”, who learned a few words in English yesterday, will tell me to unplug my device, wait ten seconds, and plug it back in. That will usually fix it, and, of course, I knew that already.
I will never again answer a phone call if I don’t recognize the name or number. I actually used to enjoy the surprise of learning who was calling me. Scammers, you’ve taken the fun out of answering the phone.
I will never again order macaroni and cheese as one of my vegetable side dishes. Oh, I’ll still eat it now and then. But I will no longer try to convince myself I’m eating healthy by ordering country-style steak, accompanied by fried okra, and a slathering of mac and cheese.
I will never again do business with an auto repair shop that charges me for two hours’ labor on a job that took a half-hour to complete, because “that’s what it says in the manual.”
I will never again take a ride in a hot-air balloon. I did that once, and missed a power line by ten feet. There’s a reason I was spared, and I believe it was to warn you about hot-air balloons.
I will never again buy a product online because “There are only 3 left!” Trust me, if you make that purchase, and then check the site an hour later, there are still “only 3 left.”
I will never again buy clothing that seems a bit snug, saying to myself, “After I lose a few pounds, it’ll fit just fine.”
I will never again climb a ladder to the roof. I have not yet fallen off a roof, so I will quit while I’m ahead.
Speaking of which, I will never gamble again. I played a slot machine once in Atlantic City. The first time I pulled the lever, it began shelling out $150 in quarters. Kenny Rogers was right. “You gotta know when to walk away.”
