My iPod 2GB. 2009-2013
Goodbye old chum. Together we've traveled on buses and trains, cars and planes, stayed in corporate hotel rooms and trudged through unexpected snow. The stories you told me - audiobooks, horrors, comedy quizzes, classic literature (hey, it wasn't ALL Doctor Who), and the music we shared. The music, eh? Dadrock to the last, you were my final desperate corner of retreat from a world of classic schmooze, pop, techno hip-hop and alt hipsterism; a tiny world in which Zeppelin and Maiden never disappointed, the rare and obscure flourished, and my own personal playlist was just a fumble away. I've dropped you crossing busy streets, broken more earphone cables than I can remember stuffing you into my jacket pocket, lost you, and watched as my offspring probably tried a little too hard to listen to you without earphones (I'm not stupid.) Great times, amigo, great times. And now, just this morning at the bus stop, your top fell off and you up and died. No reboot to factory settings for you this time, nor no PC-enabled defibrilation, not even a final song to play us out. This is the end.
Dammit, now I'll have to read books on the bus again.