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Cariboocreek

It Is What It Is
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So I’m sitting here early this morning, sipping on a “camp” coffee and reflecting on the year that was and the year that will be. My C6 is wearing it’s winter pyjamas, and the quiet hum of the battery maintainer can be heard in the background. It was a great summer. At times the weather sucked, other days were glorious and demanded the top be removed, resulting in a sunburn to the top of my less than full-some head of hair. My beloved Goldwing, jealous that it’s place in the hierarchy of importance, tumbled from first seed to envious bystander. The Camaro, once the go-to for top off driving, relegated to spend the summer under its fading cover, with a either a battery so dead, or a heart so broken, that the door locks refuse to unlock. My four legged equine friends who have faithfully carried myself and my lovely bride through many miles of off-road riding, spend their time in peaceful quest for the best grass, confident knowing that as long as there are Corvettes in the garage, there will be no chance of saddle sores. My two best friends, Merlin and Maksim, spent the summer staring wantingly out the living room window, wondering how they became latch-key kids, forced to spend countless hours alone with each other fighting over the 10 elk antlers that litter the house, while dad seemingly unaware of their plight, happily drove off in his new red Jezebel....without them.

The snow and the fog seem to be easing somewhat this morning and Christmas carols can be heard on the radio as I finish my coffee. As I take the final sips of my “mildly” Baileys flavoured beverage, the emptying mug reminds me that as the cup empty’s it makes room for a second helping of the delicious libation, similar to the final emptying of the mug of 2019. It’s not that the year is over and we are looking at father time and mother nature square in the face, it is the wonderful abyss of an empty year that stands in front of us. A year ready to be filled to the top with all those things that make our lives worth living, family and friends. Which in an odd way brings me back to that red amalgamation of steel, plastic and fibreglass that inserted itself into my life. It’s not the car, it’s what the car became. It became a way for my bride of 37 years and myself to reconnect doing something together we both enjoy (her days of wearing a helmet and being soaked in a blinding rainstorm, gripping the handholds while in fear for her life on the back of a motorcycle, long since gone). The car also became a catalyst for the meeting and making of new friends. Family and friends.

So my friends, as the contents of your 2019 cup becomes less, don’t be in distress over the long cold winter in front of you, instead be excited as to what your 2020 cup of life may hold and what new adventures your Corvette may bring to you.

My coffee is cold now. Time for a second cup.
 
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So I’m sitting here early this morning, sipping on a “camp” coffee and reflecting on the year that was and the year that will be. My C6 is wearing it’s winter pyjamas, and the quiet hum of the battery maintainer can be heard in the background. It was a great summer. At times the weather sucked, other days were glorious and demanded the top be removed, resulting in a sunburn to the top of my less than full-some head of hair. My beloved Goldwing, jealous that it’s place in the hierarchy of importance, tumbled from first seed to envious bystander. The Camaro, once the go-to for top off driving, relegated to spend the summer under its fading cover, with a either a battery so dead, or a heart so broken, that the door locks refuse to unlock. My four legged equine friends who have faithfully carried myself and my lovely bride through many miles of off-road riding, spend their time in peaceful quest for the best grass, confident knowing that as long as there are Corvettes in the garage, there will be no chance of saddle sores. My two best friends, Merlin and Maksim, spent the summer staring wantingly out the living room window, wondering how they become latch-key kids, forced to spend countless hours alone with each other fighting over the 10 elk antlers that litter the house, while dad seemingly unaware of their plight, happily drove off in his new red Jezebel....without them.

The snow and the fog seem to be easing somewhat this morning and Christmas carols can be heard on the radio as I finish my coffee. As I take the final sips of my “mildly” Baileys flavoured beverage, the emptying mug reminds me that as the cup empty’s it makes room for a second helping of the delicious libation, similar to the final emptying of the mug of 2019. It’s not that the year is over and we are looking at father time and mother nature square in the face, it is the wonderful abyss of an empty year that stands in front of us. A year ready to be filled to the top with all those things that make our lives worth living, family and friends. Which in an odd way brings me back to that red amalgamation of steel, plastic and fibreglass that inserted itself into my life. It’s not the car, it’s what the car became. It became a way for my bride of 37 years and myself to reconnect doing something together we both enjoy (her days of wearing a helmet and being soaked in a blinding rainstorm, gripping the handholds while in fear for her life on the back of a motorcycle, long since gone). The car also became a catalyst for the meeting and making of new friends. Family and friends.

So my friends, as the contents of your 2019 cup becomes less, don’t be in distress over the long cold winter in front of you, instead be excited as to what your 2020 cup of life may hold and what new adventures your Corvette may bring to you.

My coffee is cold now. Time for a second cup.

Very poetic my friend. It is truly an art how words can flow like a tranquil river at times, becoming an expression of visual sculpture, whilst other times we are reminded more of a babbling brook...That was a good read over my morning coffee (with a subtle tasting of Kahlua).... But later today, I fear a meeting will subject me more to a babbling brook analogy.... lol....
 
Very poetic my friend. It is truly an art how words can flow like a tranquil river at times, becoming an expression of visual sculpture, whilst other times we are reminded more of a babbling brook...That was a good read over my morning coffee (with a subtle tasting of Kahlua).... But later today, I fear a meeting will subject me more to a babbling brook analogy.... lol....
Thank you. As for your meeting, I can only assume it is with some level of government given your description. Lol
 
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So I’m sitting here early this morning, sipping on a “camp” coffee and reflecting on the year that was and the year that will be. My C6 is wearing it’s winter pyjamas, and the quiet hum of the battery maintainer can be heard in the background. It was a great summer. At times the weather sucked, other days were glorious and demanded the top be removed, resulting in a sunburn to the top of my less than full-some head of hair. My beloved Goldwing, jealous that it’s place in the hierarchy of importance, tumbled from first seed to envious bystander. The Camaro, once the go-to for top off driving, relegated to spend the summer under its fading cover, with a either a battery so dead, or a heart so broken, that the door locks refuse to unlock. My four legged equine friends who have faithfully carried myself and my lovely bride through many miles of off-road riding, spend their time in peaceful quest for the best grass, confident knowing that as long as there are Corvettes in the garage, there will be no chance of saddle sores. My two best friends, Merlin and Maksim, spent the summer staring wantingly out the living room window, wondering how they became latch-key kids, forced to spend countless hours alone with each other fighting over the 10 elk antlers that litter the house, while dad seemingly unaware of their plight, happily drove off in his new red Jezebel....without them.

The snow and the fog seem to be easing somewhat this morning and Christmas carols can be heard on the radio as I finish my coffee. As I take the final sips of my “mildly” Baileys flavoured beverage, the emptying mug reminds me that as the cup empty’s it makes room for a second helping of the delicious libation, similar to the final emptying of the mug of 2019. It’s not that the year is over and we are looking at father time and mother nature square in the face, it is the wonderful abyss of an empty year that stands in front of us. A year ready to be filled to the top with all those things that make our lives worth living, family and friends. Which in an odd way brings me back to that red amalgamation of steel, plastic and fibreglass that inserted itself into my life. It’s not the car, it’s what the car became. It became a way for my bride of 37 years and myself to reconnect doing something together we both enjoy (her days of wearing a helmet and being soaked in a blinding rainstorm, gripping the handholds while in fear for her life on the back of a motorcycle, long since gone). The car also became a catalyst for the meeting and making of new friends. Family and friends.

So my friends, as the contents of your 2019 cup becomes less, don’t be in distress over the long cold winter in front of you, instead be excited as to what your 2020 cup of life may hold and what new adventures your Corvette may bring to you.

My coffee is cold now. Time for a second cup.
Well said CC, hope your 2020 is all that you, and all the forum members want it to be, enjoy every mile.
 
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