I'm not a hoarder. I might have the pile of chocolate bars that once seemed a great deal, even though now they're faded glory. I've got a lot of notebooks with poetry, notes, doodles, story ideas, drawings, lists. I've got piles of books I have or have not read. Right now I've got three motorcycles, two that don't run. I've got a pickup. I've got three cars. But I've just reduced my car inventory by one. I watched yesterday as the Interstate Auto Transport guy drove away with my sexy little German up on the ramp.
It just didn't work out. I was tentatively hopeful when I loaded the little yellow roadster onto a trailer from north of Madison and brought it home, but eventually it became clear that what it needed was more than I could give. Too bad. In the mean time, I'm going to turn my attention to other matters, doing my work, getting some writing done, and maybe seeing what those two dead motorcycles need.