Ive had this backpack on my back for 22 years now. It has been to every country I have been to save Ireland, where I used a duffel bag. It has seen the inside of dozens of planes, the roof of dozens of chicken buses. It has been my sounding board and my standin for photos. I love this bag.
I recently emptied it in Colombia to shake all the sand and crap out...I held it up to the light by accident. The fabric is wafer thin. I started looking closer. Minute split seams everywhere. My bud is about to fall apart. He is not long for this world.
After 22 years, I cant just pitch him in a dumpster. I am having a hard time deciding what to do with him. Anyone got any ideas?
You could use the material to make something--a pillow, placemats, even a change pouch or something. That way Bugs will live on in your life in other ways and will still remind you of all your travels!
I know the feeling. I have a couple of things that went everywhere with me and wore out, and i ended up with holes in the patches patching the patches patching the patches covering the holes. A kind of ticket wallet i used for about 12years was more selotape than cardboard by the end, and had been re-taped so many times that it was daft: The only reason I don't still use it was that it got stolen as part of a grab raid from my bag a couple of years back, and I was more gutted about loosing that than anything else they got! One t-shirt in particular i could never dispose of, despite the fact it now has more holes than the average sieve, whilst an old bag i used for a long while before it was mostly destroyed by a maniac with a pick-axe (long story) i still have, though now it just sits in the corner being glanced at for memories.
So to answer your question, i don't know. Everything like that that I have, I have reluctantly retired from travels before they disintegrated properly, but none i could bear to part with or even cut up as tway suggests, even though i know that makes more sense.
I threw out my favourite walking shoes in a gas-station trash can in Belfast. Those things had been with me on all my first travels and were terribly comfortable. They were so worn out, though, and covered in cow poo from Neal's grandmother's dairy farm.
I still have daydreams about them...
I still have daydreams about them...
The cow poo?
Personally, I wrote a poem. I had a green roller bag that I used for work trips for 10 years before I had to ditch it.
In 1997, when I first started travelling, I bought myself a 19 inch bright green Jaguar roller bag. While I have all manner of luggage, from suit bags to backpacks to duffle bags that could easily hold 2 dead bodies, my little green bag was my most common travel companion. It’s probably travelled close to a quarter of a million miles with me, most often sharing the overhead space of the airplanes I was on, but sometimes relegated to the luggage hold (especially recently, when liquids were banned on flights). In addition to it’s duties as a transporter of my clothes, it’s served as a camera tripod, foot rest, door stopper and dinner table.
And so I wrote my poem:
Ode To My Little Green Bag
Green and small, with wheels black.
A handy-dandy travel pack.
Full of clothes and toiletries,
like deodorant made by Degree.
You fit so nicely in the overhead
it makes me happy not check a bag instead.
You'll even fit underneath the seat
in a pinch, ain't that neat!
Kermit the Frog upon green did sling
the insult that it was like so many things.
And yet when I had to check, you were easy to find.
A green bag stands out against the other kinds.
So many bags of black complexion,
How could green not grab my affection?
Green with envy were the other flyers
as they saw the bag of their desires!
Green is the color associated with rookie players
But you quickly gained experience to quiet the naysayers
You travelled far and traveled wide
and soon became filled with pride.
But all of us age and grow tired
and soon you were dead and expired
and I say goodbye, my little green bag
travelling without you will be a drag.
It was sad to throw it out. After writing the poem, I put some trash in the bag, took it to a dumpster and threw it in. It's last job was to transport my trash to the dump in the back of a garbage truck. A sad way to go, but at least it was used for it's practical purpose right up to the very end.