Sometimes I wonder if as I age, my hearing will be the first to go. I always assumed it would be my eyes, or more likely than that, my brain.
Today, I was speaking with someone about State Fair experiences and she informed me that she almost purchased a "camel hat." At least that is what I thought she said. This did not seem odd to me. I imagined it to be something like my old Daisy Duck hat from Disneyworld.
But alas, no. I misheard the word "camel." She actually said that she almost bought a "camo hat." Camo, as in camouflage.
A sad reflection of my hearing abilities to be sure, but it sparked an odd coincidental anecdote on my part.
Many many years ago, I did purchase a camo hat.
Back in the day, my best friend and I were known to kick it around town in her super sweet mid-90's model teal/green Pontiac Sunfire. It was a two-door vehicle, with no power upgrades whatsoever and it was manual transmission. This meant that I could never drive it, but I was more than happy to be the eternal passenger in our missions.
When we were in our early 20's, both single and somewhat carefree, we really did have a lot of fun. I will perhaps highlight some other escapades in another entry, but I think that I will keep this one to the story of the camo hat.
At this point in time, my friend's baby brother, Kevin, was working at the local Gander Mountain store. He was still in high school, I think. We were (of course) at least 21 years of age.
After some sort of outing that involved eating and drinking, we decided to pay little Kevi-poo a visit. Honestly, what high school aged guy wouldn't be thrilled to see his sister and her slightly buzzed best friend saunter into his place of work to chat? Kevin, that's who.
I believe we made some inquiries (in jest) about firearms, but we were denied on this front. We then examined their tent collection, even going so far as to lay in one of the displays.
Once it became clear that our 10 minutes were up, we decided that we were going to make honest purchases after all. My friend selected a lovely woodsy sweater and I chose a brimmed camo hat from the bargain bin. Never mind that it was size XXL. I have a large head.
Purchases in hand, we returned to the Sunfire. (I feel I should again reiterate that I was the only one buzzed in this story. My driver was NOT.)
As it was summer and the weather was fine, we elected to forgo the air conditioning. We did, however, make use of the Sunfire's one high tech feature: the CD player.
My friend and I are known to have somewhat divergent tastes in music. However, when one spends a great deal of time in a car with someone, one learns to appreciate different genres. Or one does not have as much fun.
In this instance, at this point in our history, one of our top songs was Rob Zombie's "Never Gonna Stop."
OK. I know. Your head is spinning right now. Rob Zombie? Me? You never knew I was that hard core scary rock, did you? Next I will be telling you that I love Insane Clown Posse.
Worry not. Other than this song, I am not terribly familiar with Mr. Zombie's work and do not listen to it on a regular basis. I don't think I have ever even downloaded it on iTunes. But now I might. Just for old time's sake.
Anyway. Picture this: two blonde girls in their early 20's, sitting in a small teal two-door Pontiac Sunfire, windows down, speakers blaring "NEVER GONNA STOP ME!!!! NEVER GONNA STOP!!!" along County Road 42 in Burnsville. One is sitting upright wearing shades. The other is slightly reclined in her seat (low-riding) with a broad-brimmed camouflage hat pulled down over her eyes. Both are bobbing their head to the beat.
Are you impressed? You should be, because it was totally bad-ass. I wish I could say that the story only escalated from there, but that's basically it. Maybe we managed to freak out a few Squares, or maybe we impressed a few of the fellas we passed on the road. You never know.
Fast forward to nearly a decade later. My best friend is married. She just recently purchased a new car and SOLD the Sunfire. I would like to hope that the Rob Zombie CD is still in her possession, but I haven't really ever thought to ask.
One thing I do know for certain is that the camo hat is still with me. It sits perpetually perched and ready for action on the back of a chair in my room. Maybe someday I will revive it and take it back out into the wild. Or at least as wild as I am willing to get with the hearing aid I will no doubt be purchasing soon. Is there any correlation between the time spent blaring Rob Zombie and my current hearing problems? Good question.