Thursday, March 10, 2016

O'Malia's Black Beetle

I'd say O'Malia was my best friend at the end of high school and before I made friends in college. He remained a best friend for a very long time--but, I have not seen him in a very long time. Maybe thirty years, now. I know I talked to him once on the phone--that was at least ten years ago. He's one of those guys my age who have no social media presence and, if they have a cell phone or email, I don't know what the number or contact address is. I seem to have a number of old friends--and even some current ones--who don't use cells or computers, let alone, say, Facebook. Yes, I'm sure I could look him up with a simple Google search, so maybe I'm about as guilty as him (them) for losing touch.

O'Malia had a car. It was an older Volkswagen Beetle, black.

You could hear that car coming before you saw it. I don't think I ever drove it, but I rode in it many many times over the years I knew him. Around Urbandale and Des Moines, out to the Fort Dodge swimming pool and Saylorville Lake, to Lyons Park for touch football and frisbee, to--when we were a little older--the bars, and over to Iowa City and back numerous times.

The car's windshield wipers, I remember, ran on air pressure from the tires. He never appeared to have problems with it. Sure, it rode and rattled like a tin can, but it was reliable. And, well, I guess I don't have much more to say on this issue.

Good things disappear--just like that Black Beetle--and are discarded. Or change. Or, perhaps, outgrown. Or simply neglected.

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