Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Little Red Wagon

Note: A found story from this time last year.


I walk to work with a backpack that I have purchased for my computer. The beautiful little red clover carryon that got me through my entire run of the United States in December and not to mention through a year or so of traveling back and forth between the Village and Daegu, finally died. The zippers no longer had clasps, the red was tearing up in tuffs. I'm not even sure anymore how I managed to keep so many tricks and trinkets in it for so long and have it not fall apart.

It was like a good luck bag though. I never had any problems traveling with it, and was never looked at twice when sending it through scans at various airports, even when I pulled my computer out of it like a rabbit from a hat. This is probably a good thing, that bag was crazy fun. I went to the market to get the bag repaired, as I didn't want to give it up. The bag at this point had too many memories.

I remember fondly managing to drop it down the escalator at Gwamyung Station at least once, watching as my computer bounced up and down and wondering if it would still work when I was able to recover it from below. I remember tossing the darned thing into the backseat of the my cab, driven by the very nice gentlemen who shuffled me from point to point every Friday for a year in a half. I remember half sitting on it to get it closed when I had gotten too stupid at the fabric market and had bought far more fabric than I had time to work up.

I remember hauling it from Chicago to Indiana, where it was smelled fondly by a big orange dog who was looking for the other half that was expected to walk in the door at any second. I remember stuffing it full of essentials for a trip out west, and managing not to loose anything even after getting no sleep on Christmas eve. I remember carting it on planes through security in Korea and not having anyone look at it twice even with my computer all zipped up in it. It was a good bag, it was a great bag, and unfortunately the shop guy smiled wearily as he looked at it with a sort of what the hell have you done to this bag look while explaining patiently that he only had the tools to repair some parts of it.

I think the bag had come to symbolize the little red wagon I dragged around everywhere when I was a child. A place to put things, a place to keep things safe. A place for toys and memories and all the like. I really did love that bag. But when nothing can hold it together you have to let it go. So I opened the bag and pulled out my computer, which I had taken with me to the shop, and asked for help. He just gave me another goofy look and then told me I needed a computer bag for it, which I agreed.

Pulling the bag around, even with it's wheels, was throwing off my balance not to mention my shoulder, so I finally settled for a nice backpack that would evenly distribute the weight of the computer, be easy to haul hither and tither, and did not have wheels. I said goodbye to my little red bag and headed back towards home, feeling ill at ease but none the worse for wear.


Anonymous said...

"was never looked at twice when sending it through scans at various airports"

You should of give said bag to me !

Anonymous said...

I am on my second computer back pack. I have toted mine all over the world. I have stuff it until it looked like it was nine months pregnant. It has become more like my wallet than a back pack.

You have some interesting stories. I will have to read more of them. I like your top 30

Saradevil said...


Thanks for the thumbs on on the top 30. I think my thirty first top no-regret will be not regretting posting that list.

A good backpack is hard to find, keep yours.


The things I smuggled, oh the things I smuggled.