I wasn’t planning on writing another blog about Mr. 52. He was dead and I had already moved on. Alas, while his replacement was occupying his still-warm spot in the living room, Mr. 52’s remains occupied my garage. I brushed past him every morning as I squeezed past to get into my car that barely fit into its parking space because of him. Looking back, I am a bit sorry for the brusque way I treated him, even though he was just a shell of his old self. I didn’t think twice about squishing him up against the wall as I tried to fit my car in the garage. Sorry big fella.
Now the reason for this blog is not to detail the way I treated the dead thing. Nor is it to reminisce about his life. No, I’ve already done that. I think I owe it to the big guy to document his last trip to the e-waste cemetery.
After languishing in my cold garage for about a week, I finally was able to contact an e-waste company that provided a final resting place for the likes of Mr. 52. I convinced a co-worker to help me in getting him in a work truck so I could drive him to said
waste depot cemetery. We struggled with the dead weight and when we finally got him into the truck, spent some time in making sure he was well secured to make the trip. The last thing we wanted was for some dead 52 falling out the back of our truck and ending up God-knows-where ala Weekend At Bernie’s. Even still, we had to make a few unscheduled stops to reassure ourselves that the old man was doing good.
When we finally made it to our destination, my buddy and I jumped in the back to gently extricate the old guy. We braced ourselves for the lift when suddenly a pair of hands reached up, grabbed Mr. 52 and plopped him down on the ground with a screen-rattling thud. ‘No need to go easy on him, it doesn’t matter if he breaks.’ The pair of hands said, much to my dismay. Poor Mr. 52. You deserved better. (Wait a minute here! He just grabbed the a huge outmoded 52 inch tv by himself as if he was lifting my one year old son! Me and my buddy could barely lift one end of the thing to get it into the truck!!).
As we drove away, I cast one last look backwards and thought I saw the sad shape of my once proud acquisition. I am not sure though as he was already starting to blend in with the other lifeless remains that was strewn across the yard in various dead poses. No last rites, no burial. At least I rest assured that Mr. 52’s parts will be used to give life for another of his kind.
A moment of silence for the big fella please…