dear james

Dear James,

I hope you understand how hard this is for me; we’ve had so many wonderful memories together. It’s not you…it’s my wife. You see, she never really felt the same way I did about you. I know, I know. You had that nifty window in the floor where she could watch the road go by. And you got us stuck in the middle of the woods that one time so we could spend more time together. You even took your top off for her.

Mostly…it was the fumes. And the space you took up in the garage. And that you really haven't been going anywhere for the last two years. And that you drank a lot and even passed out in the driveway. And that some may (or may not) have referred to you as ‘an unholy abomination not fit to be burned with the fecal matter of a million camels’. But mostly it was the fumes. You can only smother so many brain cells.

Anyway. That’s why you were driven most of the way back to your new home by someone else. Oh, by the way, I understand why you would be upset, but two miles? You made it from Tooele to almost Vernal and decided to die TWO MILES away from Jerry’s house? That was pretty low. Its things like that that don’t make me regret leaving you for the guns. And the cash.

So I guess that’s it. I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow as I try to break pigeons with the new Mossberg. If I can see them through my tears.

All the best,

Justin