About Sore Feet
Recently I took a major leap and got rid of my car. I’ve had at least one vehicle since my sixteenth birthday, so it’s a bit strange.
I love cars. Trucks. Every one I’ve ever had has made me proud. Materialism. Sorry.
But here I am. On the other side of the line. I totally said enough is enough, I’m taking a stand for the environment.
Okay, that’s a complete lie. Here’s what I know about the environment:
That line was skipped on purpose.
So whatever. It’s a big city and I live about a minute from work and every possible thing a person could need. There’s a convenience store a block away, a breakfast place a block away, and if I get tired of walking in straight lines, there’s a liquor store two blocks away.
Pretty sweet. No real need for a car.
Walking a lot. Figure this will add a year to my life. They say moving around is good for the heart or whatnot. Though, the time I waste getting to places pretty much cancels out the year that the walking would’ve given me.
Tell you what—sometimes you just can’t win.
Eh, I’ll go with it awhile. Stretch my legs, maybe lose a pound or two. I think it’s good, if I’m being serious. Why would anyone want to sit in a heated leather seat, clipping on with a supercharged engine—why I ask, when you can walk around thinking about the wind and your feet hurting and what’s up with the way people are dressing these days.
Building character. There’s nothing quite like it.
Cheers people. Drive on safe. See you after.