The End of An Era

We had a terrible wind storm the other night. It knocked down trees and power lines and caused an untold number of headaches for the unthinking souls who neglected to pull their trashcans into their garages * cough.... Hugh.... cough*.

Even worse, it picked up our gas grill and hurled it to the ground, shattering it into many pieces and scaring the beejezus out of me and the children as we watched television. Have you ever heard the sound that a gas grill makes as it shatters into a million pieces? It. Is. Scary.

The resulting mess, however, is spectacular. Twisted metal, shards of plastic and; volcanic rock, spewing forth from the well of the grill as though it had vomited its last meal. Awesome!

And, completely beside the point.

The point is; Hugh was sad. "It's the end of an era" he said as he stood over the debris, shaking his head and trying to hide the tears.

And, right he is; my college roommates purchased that grill for us as a wedding gift almost fourteen years ago (Fourteen years? you say. Yes, children, back in our day, they built them to last! Also, I walked three miles to school. Barefoot. Uphill. BOTH Ways. And, I didn't have HBO until I was twelve. Shocking, I know). At the time, it was the Cadillac of gas grills and we have charred many a chicken breast and steak upon it's hallowed rack as a pot of baked beans bubbled on the adjacent burner.

It was, indeed, a quality piece of machinery and it will be missed, even if it did scare the hell out of me to light it, visions of singed eyebrows and all that.

RIP gas grill.

On a not entirely unrelated note, guess who will be shopping for a new gas grill for Father’s Day? Oh, come on; guess!