From the Archives: Chums

Some little while ago i noticed my day-wear eyeglass had become a little more loose than normal and were continually slipping down my nose with every little shimmy or shake. It was quite annoying really, not least because it kind of made me look something like a grandpa (you may know the head tilted down, peering over the glasses look), which i am not. Since i didn't want the Union of Federated Grandpa's to think i was trying to pass off as one, and thus potentially jeopardize any potential future membership, i began to ponder ways of solving the problem short of going through the whole process of getting some new glasses. That is when i remembered i had some of those strap thingees collected during those long ago races in Utah; soon enough i set to digging and rummaging through the archives to see if i could actually find one. Sure enough there was one there, still proclaiming the Tour of St. George, covered by all kinds of stuff. I pulled it out like a roadrunner might pull a rattler from a hole in the ground and...

that's when i remembered one dog or another had got ahold of it some long while ago and did his, or her, best to render it useless. Gol darn it, or dagnabit, or something along those lines, i said, there goes the shredding of my best option. Sometimes the archives hold only useless memories more suitable, perhaps, for the trash bin.