Backlog: In 1998-99, when I was in college and was working full time at this factory called NTN Driveshaft, I became pretty good friends with one of the guys on my assembly line. After knowing eachother for awhile, we discovered we had a mutual interest in working out, and so we both joined a gym and became workout partners.
Back in that time of my life, I was pretty heavy into the car stereo scene. I had done several custom installs for different people over the years, and had gotten good at fabricating stuff out of fiberglass, building amp racks and subwoofer enclosures, etc.
During that time period, I had a '67 Pontiac Firebird that I was in the process of fixing up, and it needed an engine. Well my buddy happened to have a 400 small block chevy engine that he got in a trade deal, and I happened to have some stereo equipment that I wasn't using.
To make a long story short, I ended up trading him this brand new stereo equipment for the engine, and part of the agreement we had was that I was also going to build him all the custom interior pieces required to make it all fit and do a full-blown install for him. So in addition to the retail price of the equipment I was trading, I ended up putting about 20 hours of labor over the course of one weekend into this deal.
What I didn't find out (till later), is that in the same timeframe that I was doing the work to his car, he was scoping out new places of residence. Now bear in mind: at the time all this was taking place, I was no longer working at NTN Driveshaft due to pursuit of other interests, so I no longer had contact with him through work. After it was all said and done, I gave him his car with its brand new system, and we parted company with the understanding that we had worked out a date in the near-future for us to make arrangements to haul the 400 engine over to my house.
And that was the last I heard of him...
He stopped answering his phone, so after a couple of days I went over to his house to see if something might be wrong. Nobody home; empty house. I went and asked around to some of his family that lived nearby to see if they knew of his whereabouts: nobody (of course) seemed to know. Thinking back, there was about a 5-day window from the last time I had been to his (old) house till the time I went back to check up on him: enough time, apparently, for him to pack up and move to a new undisclosed location.
Endgame:
1 1/2 year long friendship < car stereo
Fast forward to yesterday:
After I get done putting my stuff in my locker, I walk out into the weight area. I see him, he see's me. He quickly looks away and tries to pretend like he doesn't see me.
At that instant, thoughts begin racing: (What do I do? What do I say? Do I say anything? How do I act? Should I tear out this guy's spine? What?)
So I go over to an exercise bike, sit down, and dial in "20:00" to give myself that long to think about how I'm going to handle this.
I had forgiven Eric a long time ago. But as I sat there on that exercise bike, I realized that I had forgiven him on the condition that I would never see him again, or rather, that I had hoped I would never see him again. I guess when you're faced with an ended relationship that got no closure, you fill in the blanks the best way you know how.
Just then, in the midst of all these feelings of hostility-laced nostalgia, another thought occurred to me: I'm sure he was planning on never seeing me again either, and he's probably over there ready to pee his pants about now. I bet he's thinking that his time to pay the piper has finally come.
And that's when I made my decision...
After the clock on the exercise bike ran down, I got up and went over to the drinking fountain to quench my thirst, then proceeded over to the dumbbell rack area. I saw him glance at me for a split second as I came around the corner to where he was, and then his eyes immediately darted to the floor where they stayed glued. I went up to the rack, picked up two dumbbells, and sat down on the bench right next to his.
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but it also had to be one of the most comical moments I've ever experienced: here I am sitting not two feet away from this guy with the dumbbells resting on my knees, and as I'm looking at him through the mirror in front of us I see that the guy is making such a concerted effort to stare intensely downward it is as if a portal to hell must've opened up in the floor. I stayed paused there for a long enough moment to indicate that there was no way I hadn't seen him, and then proceeded to do my set.
(That was it. That was all I needed to see.)
I finished my set, stood up and re-racked the dumbbells, and then stood facing him. His face was still fascinated with the floor.
Me: "How're you doin' Hobson?"
Him: (This numbskull has the audacity to look up at me with a look of surprise on his face, as if to say, "Oh hey Rob, didn't see you there!") "Pretty good."
Me: "What've you been up to lately?"
Him: "Workin'."
Me: "You still at NTN?"
Him: "<blank> no. <blankety-blank> that <blanking> place.
Me: "Well, it's good to see you again."
Him: ".............." (Stares back at the floor.)
At that, I turned around and walked off the weightroom floor leaving my workout unfinished. It just seemed like the right thing to do. But I'll tell you, I walked out the door of that gym feeling like a million bucks.
I think I may have taken a step yesterday.
Thanks for reading.
Back in that time of my life, I was pretty heavy into the car stereo scene. I had done several custom installs for different people over the years, and had gotten good at fabricating stuff out of fiberglass, building amp racks and subwoofer enclosures, etc.
During that time period, I had a '67 Pontiac Firebird that I was in the process of fixing up, and it needed an engine. Well my buddy happened to have a 400 small block chevy engine that he got in a trade deal, and I happened to have some stereo equipment that I wasn't using.
To make a long story short, I ended up trading him this brand new stereo equipment for the engine, and part of the agreement we had was that I was also going to build him all the custom interior pieces required to make it all fit and do a full-blown install for him. So in addition to the retail price of the equipment I was trading, I ended up putting about 20 hours of labor over the course of one weekend into this deal.
What I didn't find out (till later), is that in the same timeframe that I was doing the work to his car, he was scoping out new places of residence. Now bear in mind: at the time all this was taking place, I was no longer working at NTN Driveshaft due to pursuit of other interests, so I no longer had contact with him through work. After it was all said and done, I gave him his car with its brand new system, and we parted company with the understanding that we had worked out a date in the near-future for us to make arrangements to haul the 400 engine over to my house.
And that was the last I heard of him...
He stopped answering his phone, so after a couple of days I went over to his house to see if something might be wrong. Nobody home; empty house. I went and asked around to some of his family that lived nearby to see if they knew of his whereabouts: nobody (of course) seemed to know. Thinking back, there was about a 5-day window from the last time I had been to his (old) house till the time I went back to check up on him: enough time, apparently, for him to pack up and move to a new undisclosed location.
Endgame:
1 1/2 year long friendship < car stereo
Fast forward to yesterday:
After I get done putting my stuff in my locker, I walk out into the weight area. I see him, he see's me. He quickly looks away and tries to pretend like he doesn't see me.
At that instant, thoughts begin racing: (What do I do? What do I say? Do I say anything? How do I act? Should I tear out this guy's spine? What?)
So I go over to an exercise bike, sit down, and dial in "20:00" to give myself that long to think about how I'm going to handle this.
I had forgiven Eric a long time ago. But as I sat there on that exercise bike, I realized that I had forgiven him on the condition that I would never see him again, or rather, that I had hoped I would never see him again. I guess when you're faced with an ended relationship that got no closure, you fill in the blanks the best way you know how.
Just then, in the midst of all these feelings of hostility-laced nostalgia, another thought occurred to me: I'm sure he was planning on never seeing me again either, and he's probably over there ready to pee his pants about now. I bet he's thinking that his time to pay the piper has finally come.
And that's when I made my decision...
After the clock on the exercise bike ran down, I got up and went over to the drinking fountain to quench my thirst, then proceeded over to the dumbbell rack area. I saw him glance at me for a split second as I came around the corner to where he was, and then his eyes immediately darted to the floor where they stayed glued. I went up to the rack, picked up two dumbbells, and sat down on the bench right next to his.
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, but it also had to be one of the most comical moments I've ever experienced: here I am sitting not two feet away from this guy with the dumbbells resting on my knees, and as I'm looking at him through the mirror in front of us I see that the guy is making such a concerted effort to stare intensely downward it is as if a portal to hell must've opened up in the floor. I stayed paused there for a long enough moment to indicate that there was no way I hadn't seen him, and then proceeded to do my set.
(That was it. That was all I needed to see.)
I finished my set, stood up and re-racked the dumbbells, and then stood facing him. His face was still fascinated with the floor.
Me: "How're you doin' Hobson?"
Him: (This numbskull has the audacity to look up at me with a look of surprise on his face, as if to say, "Oh hey Rob, didn't see you there!") "Pretty good."
Me: "What've you been up to lately?"
Him: "Workin'."
Me: "You still at NTN?"
Him: "<blank> no. <blankety-blank> that <blanking> place.
Me: "Well, it's good to see you again."
Him: ".............." (Stares back at the floor.)
At that, I turned around and walked off the weightroom floor leaving my workout unfinished. It just seemed like the right thing to do. But I'll tell you, I walked out the door of that gym feeling like a million bucks.
I think I may have taken a step yesterday.
Thanks for reading.
