Well I suppose the hardest things to replace are the feeling of invincibility, the lack of groaning when I get out of bed, missing people who are no longer with us but made us better just for knowing them. First love, first heartbreak, obsession, mix tapes for the object of your obsession. Being the Big Sister, the chick that got to hang out with guys and get greasy, dirty and sweaty.
The faint odors of the Tognotti's warehouse and the VP fuel in the back, the far-off sound of Sac Raceway and pooling our ducketts for Avgas from Phoenix Field.
Being the first woman on the parts counter in over 22 years at a highly respected race shop and not having the OG's question your knowledge...well that's an honor no matter if you sit or stand to piss.
Winning your class in a major car show and not even realizing it because you were just so damn excited to even be AT the show in the first place.
Cruising the SR Mall before it got shut down, then Bird Cage (when it still had birds) before it got shut down, then the Sunrise/Madison/ GBL loop before they shut us down.
Swiss Bones smoothly caressing each other along the faint lonely sound of a carefully molded half-pipe. The sandy swish of the BMX track in Roseville and the enthusiasm of the invincible kids. The drop down gate still sticks, to this day, and even though it's dangerous, we've all taken a tumble and ended up with a mouth full of dirt.
Those of you locals old enough to remember, will give a respectful nod to GoSkate and all those blanks that my brother destroyed, as well as the whole chickens being hurled around Pollo Ole' where the worlds best guac was made every day, thanks Mara, we miss you.
Then later, VW's and L-Dog, both a bit dangerous and keeping Shorty busy at Bugformance. Hitting up a Taco Bell anywhere in SacTown only to find a "FSU" sticker on the menu board.
The smell of new Vans fresh out of the box only to keep wearing your "Vandals" until they literally fell of your feet. F & L beer, nuff' said on that. Op's, Vuarnetts, Arnetts (this always slays me). K-Swiss, Powell Peralta shirts and 501's for $9.99 at Mervyn's.
Watching 'Suburbia' and secretly wishing you were part of that crew while shitting yourself wondering if it could actually happen to you.
Stickers . On . Everything.
Kids playing outside 'till it was dark.
Making due without, making something out of nothing, crashing on the floor of the party house, scrounging for change at the drive-thru, trying not to stutter when you got pulled over.
Film that required developing. Polaroids. Wanting a Rico's flying saucer size pizza, getting Little Caesar's instead. When a can of soda was enough.
Folsom Lake. Bonfires, kegs, boom boxes, oh and...Park rangers. Scatter!
Most importantly I long for a time with no cell phones or texting, no selfies or selfie sticks, no Instagram, Facebook, SnapChat, Tinder, Vine or Twitter. In fact, if some one had said "Oh that's gold! I gotta post that on FB and Tweet it to see how many likes/re-tweets I get." They may or may not have ended up inverted in a waste receptacle at some point.
I miss politeness, respect, Saturday morning cartoons, cars that you can actually hear, and a time where parents coddling their "special snowflake" was frowned upon, because life is tough as hell and Skyping your best bud isn't the same as sitting on the porch with a cold one when your 14 year old dog dies.
Folks, in order to have a successful civilization one must know how to be 'civil' in the first place. That includes saying please and thank you, acting for the greater good instead of ones self and lending a helping hand.
I think my brother Charlie summed up today's society when he said "Everyone wants to be involved, but nobody wants to be bothered." He also says we should chin-check it and hug it out when it's over. My husband thinks smacking some folks in the head with a shovel may help on a scientific level...but that's for another time.
I miss yesterday, because today it's all one big office party where the only one who cares, buys the Birthday Girl a cake and a card. Everyone grabs some cake, signs the card and doesn't chip in or is actually sure who 'Phyllis in Accounting' is in the first place.
If you need me, I'll be in my garage, sobbing and clutching my last unbroken deck to my chest (a Zero with the flag screened on it), and a set of Independent trucks in the other and wondering exactly how Tony Hawk became 48, or better yet...when, exactly did I turn 50?
