It's been another week since I've written a column, but it doesn't seem like it's been very long at all. These days time seems to slip away from me, like the ripples on a pond skim silently away from the point of entry for a stone tossed upon the water. All too soon even the ripples are gone as if they were never there. Everyone who throws a stone never knows about all the stones that came before, they only see the little ripples they themselves have made. In the same way, my time also seems to slip away from me, but I haven't the luxury of watching it glide away across the surface of the ages.

I don't mean to wax poetic here, I'm just trying to say that I've been trying to play catch up for a while now and I haven't been very successful at it. I've been busy for the past few weeks, and it's been awfully hard to get everything done. Part of the problem is the fact that I've been off work a couple of days over that same time period, including last Friday when I again took a trip to Raleigh.

I had a guitar that I needed to have professionally repaired and I managed to find a technician there who really knows his stuff. I don't trust my equipment to just anyone, especially when there are long-term bonds to be considered. It'd be like taking a child to an unknown baby sitter. Of course, I checked out his shop and then his credentials before deciding that he was the best choice, even if he was expensive and far away. It's hard to find everything you need in a small town. There are prices to be paid for living on the mountain, but for me, it's well worth the cost of inconvenience.

As it turned out, The technician actually knew his stuff better than he could explain it to me. He was talking about things like pickups and ‘pots' and wiring and things, so I just talked with him about what I needed it to do and he took care of the rest. I was a bit concerned that I might not have gotten the message across as well as I could have, but once he got all the work finished, the final product was one with which I could be well pleased. Nostalgia can seldom be matched with reality, but in this case, it actually plays as well as or better than it did when I first lay hands on it many moons ago. Even so, I ended up spending as much as the guitar would probably sell for in a secondhand store to repair it, but I've had it for a couple of decades and have developed a sentimental attachment.

I tend to make a special place for my familiar things, especially musical instruments and heirlooms. Some may be heirlooms for me now, while still others may become heirlooms for future generations. Nonetheless, these are items in which I have instilled a value that cannot be expressed in dollar figures. Once I acquire a feel for an instrument, it's hard for me to discard it if it needs repair. Add in the nostalgia value and you'll understand why I would drive so far to get it fixed.

To be honest, one of my friends drove me down and back for the latest trip, all I did was purchase the gasoline. Since he is a former truck driver, he tends to see driving on a trip to a place three or so hours away as a minor inconvenience, whereas I see it as a major journey. The last time I went, I did all the driving and I was completely worn out by the time I got home. I felt as though I had been beaten, especially since I spent some two hours of the trip white-knuckled, creeping my way through rush hour traffic in the Raleigh-Durham and Winston-Salem areas. If that doesn't make you appreciate the mountain, what would? They may have wider roads with more lanes, but they also have many, many more cars to go with it.

Anyway, I don't think I would ever make it as a truck driver. I don't like to drive for more than a few hours without stopping and I tend to drink way too much coffee, which then leads me to seek out the nearest gas station at every available opportunity. Don't try that trick when you're riding with a truck driver. It was close once or twice, but I managed to maintain pretty well most of the time, but only because his son was along and also kept his share of the liquids going as well. Truckers learn to drink only a very little as they drive, a trick that I've learned by watching them. Most of the eating and drinking that I do in the car is as much out of boredom as it is out of need.

Of course, that didn't stop me from getting another big cup of coffee when we got there. There was a specialty shop there which offered two different kinds of African coffee beans, so I opted for the beans from Kenya and Sumatra. At least I think they were from Sumatra, but it was hard to tell since the man who ran the shop spoke with a thick accent that I assumed was African. He had a very exotic flair about him and wore a brightly striped hat on his head. He could have been from New Jersey for all I knew, but his coffee was excellent.

I also stopped off at a European store down the way and picked up a few things that generally can't be found here, like fresh sausages, good tea, heavy breads, smoked and dried fish and whole berry preserves. Although I enjoy the basics-beans, onions, cabbage, bread, potatoes and tomatoes-I do partake of a little variety now and again.

The clerk was Ukrainian, from what I could gather from trying to differentiate another accent. She helped me find the items I needed in the store and even made a few suggestions.

Through my limited travels, I developed a taste for some of the foods that are typically part of the diet in other nations. I might want to get on the diet that involves less food from every nation, since I popped a button on a pair of my dress pants recently. Maybe that won't turn into much of a story.

I'll just have to hope things calm down later this week, since I've been going crazy the first two days of this one trying to get everything done. I'll just think positive and see.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

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