If I could delete a memory, would I?

The question I like better is, ‘If I could delete a memory, which would it be?’  That’s much easier to answer.  The memory, rather the event, would be the night my date and I wandered around the Philadelphia Spectrum parking lot for what felt like hours because we couldn’t remember where we parked!

The who, when, and what are complete and total blanks.  The vague notion of it being a rock concert, his being older and taller, and my really not wanting to be there tickle the edges of remembrance.  But more than that – nada, zilch, zip.  The knot of fear, though, lingers in my belly like sour milk.  Enough that I continually worry that I won’t be able to find my car in the parking lot of which ever establishment I happen to be frequenting at that moment.  My remedy is to landmark the car or park far enough away that no one will be around me.  A future remedy is, the next car I buy will be bright red or neon green!

H/T PlinkyPrompts



3 thoughts on “If I could delete a memory, would I?

  1. I seem to remember the time I did not remember where I parked my car. It was a long night after the party after the party, I dropped my date (wife) off at her dorm, walked out the door – apparently not recognizing the car right at the door because it has mysteriously disguised itself in plain view… or something like that. Actually, for some reason, I thought I’d parked it elsewhere and must have been so certain I knew where it was… I didn’t even think to look there. Of course it couldn’t be where I thought it was… but I went there and then all over campus. Even interrupted the neckers in various frat houses to ask, “Hey Dave…’scuse me… seen my car?” And yet they were helpful? Eventually went back to my date’s suite to ask, “Anyone seen my car?” They looked at it out the window… duh. I won’t say I was in my best shape at 4:00am… or whenever… but the fog did clear.

    Needless to say, took a little ribbing over that for some time. Graduation cards… well… a few mentioned it. Then there was the movie… “Dude, Where’s My Car?” with Ashton K…and more ribbing. Proudly… I can say I was never a stoner, nor were aliens involved…. nor was our dialogue quite as bad.

    Memories I’d erase are more like grade school. The aftermath from when I and a friend ate the popcorn off the school Christmas tree…. we were hungry and it was sooooooo there. Classic case of listening to bad advice. I remember the mandatory apology to the class… and then trying to restring some of this stuff… very very hard work. Eat off a whole tree, and then string about 2 feet and say… “This was the best I could do.” My mom wasn’t going to waste another Jiffy Pop on a failed idea. “What a bum!” Yeah. We were bad. My dad of course thought it was funny. Some things you can’t fix.

Comments are closed.