| The Long Sequel By: Scott "Grizzly" Kurtz |
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| Nissan/Datsun |
| Event Pictures |
| My Z32 300ZX |
| MY BUDS AND I FELT THAT WE WERE THE BEST, AND ONLY TWO THINGS COULD HAPPEN IN A DAY. |
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| It seems like yesterday that I was the one getting the oooo's and aahh's. |
| Before I start to ramble too much, let me introduce myself: I am Mark R. Pneumatic. There are rumors that my dad was a brad nailer and my mom was a paint sprayer but I didn't know them so, like, whatever. When I was young here in Canada, things were a lot simpler, not as much color and not as many accessories to enhance oneself. This did not take anything away from our goal of giving best to those that carried us. The day would start with the sunrise, duh!! Seriously, thought, it would start with a bunch of us on a shelf all cleaned up and shining waiting for the crowds. My buds and I felt that we were the best, and only two things could happen in a day. The first: we would be picked for use outside and returned, dirty and spent. The second: someone would take one of us off the shelf to take home for their very own. Naturally, the debate went on and on as to what would be the best to happen. When these yahoos needed some reality, I would tell them that being ignored would be the worst. Little did I know that in later years I would be begging to be noticed. Yes, those were the days! Each day went by so fast because we worked so hard and stayed focused on the job at hand. After that tank was hung on you and you warmed up, it was time to rock and roll. During the games it was natural to see if you could pop your buddy, but it wasn't really the goal, though it made for interesting convrsation later. The worst that would happen any of us would be that we might let off some gas. For some reason those that carried us didn't like it. Go figure; we thought it was just natural. It was no big deal. The operator gave us a new o-ring, and we were ready to go again. Between you and me, I think I was just about the best at spitting paint and not letting off too much gas. Let's not go into the paintballs at all, please, because I think they belong in a cult or something. We thought we had a real good thing, and that it wasn't going to end. Then, and it didn't take long, some strange new guys started arriving on the shelves. THey were a little slimmer, and they shone like a light was inside them. Some of my buds were a little too sensitive and freaked out right away. The first time they had tanks hooked up to them, they puked out gas, like, everywhere. It was very embarassing and bad for the rep, dont you know. |
| As more of the new ones came in more of my buds came apart...literally. The toughest job now was keeping it together, in case the day came where you were picked to perform. Time went by and even more, the shelf changed. One day I looked around, and I was alone with these new guys. It was not like I didn't try to make friends, it was just they talk a different way. It's power this and electronic that, not my cup of tea. Somehow I stayed though, even in these lean times when days went by before I was used, and then just for a short time. The comments from the new guys with attitude I could take, but the laughter and hollering from outside was the hardest. That was where I belonged, that was where I performed and had tasted glory. Then a certain day came. For some reason, things felt different. It could have been some bad gas or some paintball lodged inside, I don't know. All I know is I felt that one way or another this was my last day on the shelf. The day started like all the rest. Crowds came and picked out the shiny new guys. Things started to slow down a bit and about half the shelf was empty with me in the mix. Then a couple of users came in and one pointed in my direction. The operator grabbed the one beside me but the user said, "No, the other one". So the operator grabbed me and gave me to an excited user. As we started the games I decided that I was going to give my all for as long as this user wanted me. After a couple of games he got the hang of things and I could tell he was having a good time. Some of those new shiny guys came into view but they disappeared real quick after I spit out as much as I could at them. My user was walking off the game field and started hollering stuff at the top of his lungs and it sounded happy. THis made me feel really good and I knew that I should hang onto the feeling because it might be the last time. As my user went back to the building I saw my usual spot on the shelf. As I laid on the counter the conersation between the operator and the user went on for longer than normal. There was an odd look on the operator's face but a big smile on my user's, but I didn't want to assume anything. |
| The operator took me to the back room and cleaned me up inside and out and put a couple new things in as well. This was very nice, I thought, and it was the best I had felt in a long while. Then I was put in a box and it seemed that someone else was holding me. As I heard the excited hollering I knew that I was with my user. I was going home with him. Even though I miss my old friends from the shelf, I really like having my own user, and a home. |
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| Scott "Grizzly" Kurtz writes from Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. |