|Hard Travel and Good Times: The clasps began to fail so it was time.|
I bought the suitcase in New York City in the early 1990s as a formal transition from the duffels and backpacks that defined my earlier luggage. The suitcase represented my transition into adulthood, where I had to transport formal clothes and not be a total idiot.
Generally I am not the nostalgic sort about gear, if something is broken I want to replace it quickly. However, when this suitcase began to be only marginally serviceable it took some effort to move it along.
I have a tendency to develop an odd sense of loyalty to special objects in my life. This is usually directed towards sporting goods -- bikes, skis, and surfboards -- even though I move through gear regularly.
The nostalgia comes when I realize the right thing to do is get rid of the thing, making me reflective of the good times I had with it.
I'm lucky in that I have a limited capacity for nostalgia. Once the thing is out the door I'm good.
Good until the purchase of a plane ticket makes me search my photo files for the symbol of excellent travels remembered.