Slowly Closing The Circle.

(Yeah. You know what I'm thinking.)

I have said many times that eventually, everything I desire pops up at the flea market, or at a yard sale, or even at the thrift store, at a price I'm willing to pay. Today was no exception. If you follow my blog (at times I wonder if anyone does, really), you'll know that I posted about coolers a while back, waxing nostalgic about how this simple artifact brings back tear-jerking memories for me. This particular one is likely a later model, due to the forming of the sheetmetal around the latch assembly. It's far from perfect, with the usual scratches and dings, and there's a bit of something that appears to be asphalt sealer dripped on the back. The important thing is the latch works, there's very little rust on the chrome parts, and it includes-wait for it-the always-missing upper tray to keep your sandwiches out of the icy water.

I opened it up-to inspect and to establish interest-and noticed some brown funk water inside. Asking the vendor the price, he informed me a paltry $5, and offered to throw the brown water in for free. This was my kind of guy. Not even blinking I paid him, no haggling-anything this good at this price, and you can't really split hairs-you can't buy a new cooler for that, let alone this kind of treasure. I'm going to load this up with Rolling Rocks in honor of Granddad and listen to The Cure and Black Flag all day.