The past is another...continent, like Antarctica.

I had some stuff to drop-off at the Animal Shelter – some doggie blankets and a stack of old towels. On the way home in the rain I drove along Highway 237, past a place where I once worked and a low, red-brick bar, where Evel Knievel once got into a dust-up and was arrested for punching his fifth wife – or something. Both buildings obliterated by Time’s all-consuming gray moustach flecked with bits of food.
The wipers made a soft and infrequent ~whap~ as I drove past the former flagship 3-Com campus buildings where I did technical drawings for a year as a temp. Evidence of it’s past association and also the neighboring Palm Computing signs have disappeared beneath the over-arching corporate badges of Marvell Semiconductor. The dive dance-bar was now a gaping hole between two other buildings – at least its absence served as the promise of a new beginning. Further along another ghost appeared in the mist, the old home of Netscape now housing Symantic, and down the street the building where Intel started in 1968.
I made a left and drove home to the mailbox where I pulled out a community flyer on retirement planning and a Crimson Trace catalog… Oh great.