Pawn Star
First, a little back-story. As I type this, I’m sitting in a bar/restaurant in a small town near State College, PA (the town being called Bellefonte, PA). The bar/restaurant is “the Governor’s Pub,” a nice, new, modern kind of place that doesn’t come close to suiting its name. It looks more like a coffeeshop than a pub, in fact – except that instead of an espresso machine, they have a short row of beers on tap. I see Troegs, Yeungling, Amstel Light, and the worst beer ever conceived by man: Stella Artois. I’m having a Yeungling. Yeah, it’s one in the afternoon. On a Wednesday. What of it? It’s my last day of ‘cation. Anyway so picture me sitting at a heavily lacquered round table in a “pub” with entirely too much natural lighting and IKEA furniture. This right here is exactly the rug beneath my feet. Pretty much everything else in the place is set up to match. Can you picture it? Right on.
Alright. None of that’s really relevant anyway. What’s relevant is why I’ve called this post “Pawn Star” in the first place. It’s because, dear reader, I’ve begun the arduous process of selling on Craigslist all of my bulkier life-gear. When you’re planning on spending three to four months on your feet, there’s little need for a couch and chaise lounge, after all. When your home will be a highway (I set up that link solely so we can all enjoy the lamest harmonica solo ever strung together, by the way…check in at the 4:01 mark for that rarest of melodic treats), there’s no longer need for your 37” LCD screen. When you plan to sleep in a tent, you’ve no use for a king-size Sealy Pillowtop. And who wants to store all that crap when it costs over a hundred bones per month to do so?
Me? I’d rather see if I can turn into money the furnishings I’ll probably replace soon anyway. Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to sell my couch and lounge, and had the pleasure of selling it to one M. Noble, an abundantly sweet foster mother who happens to share my stepdad’s last name. She found my ad on Craigslist, and liked the pictures of my furniture enough to drive two hours with a U-Haul from somewhere in rural Ohio. You should have seen her husband and me trying to wrench that humongous stuff around the bend in the stairs of my old apartment. Anyway, I’m glad to have been able to sell a set of furniture that’s served me so well to a woman who volunteers all of her free time in raising so many of Ohio’s foster children (44 of them, to date!). It seems fitting, given the purpose of this walk. I’m also glad to have twenty fresh Twunsters (credit Jeanette for inventing that ridiculous word) in my pocket.
And now we’ve finally come to the reason I feel like such a pawn star today: Imma use those twenty Twunsters to purchase a new tent. In a sense, I’ve just traded the gigantic furniture that roots so many of us to the place in which we live (okay so there are other factors – jobs, kids, houses, that sort of thing – but I’m fortunate enough to be unfettered by the lot of them) for the little portable house I’ll be sleeping in while I tool around the American Southeast. Whatchoo think about that, naysayers? I’m so serious about this trip, I’m actually selling my stuff to pay for it. Bam!
In related news, I’ve seen interest in my TV, which I plan to flip into the backpack I’ll be carrying. My bed? That’s a new netbook. And I might even have enough left over for a new pair of walkin’ boots.
So I’m excited to have traded my furniture for a new tent. It’s a sweet, sweet tent, too. I’ve only seen it in person once (in the showroom at REI), but I’m already in love with it. I can’t wait for it to arrive from the interweb so I can set it up, sleep in it a time or two, and then write my next Gear Day review. Stay tuned for that, reader. I’m off to enjoy the last throes of my holiday.
