Perhaps I took things a bit far to try and get records in three states in two days. Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment…sometimes, I just don’t know.
Approaching Louisville from the south, I thought I’d stop in Elizabethtown first. My long commute from the Gulf of Mexico plus the time zone change was getting me into town late and I figured I might have a better shot at some stores if I could get there the 30 minutes early that E-town could provide. I got off to a really bad start as I missed my exit and had to add 20 miles to my trip waiting for an exit to turn around at.
Detour aside, I got to E-town. Besides death and taxes, every Goodwill has vinyl and these are simple truths in life. Or were, because this one did not. Undeterred, I carried on.
I raced over to a St. Vincent having just a few minutes to inspect their stash before closing time. But they decided to close up early, so my racing was useless.
A smarter man would have called it quits and gotten back on the highway at this point, because I still had a Goodwill in Shepardsville near my hotel to check out. But I refused to let this city beat me down.
I rolled back across town to Salvation Army. And it simply did not exist, the address Google provided was bogus. I checked my phone again…there was another location BACK OVER NEAR ST VINCENT. I took a deep breath and retraced my steps. And of course, they were closed as well.
Regaining my composure after this most epic of failures – perhaps a personal low – was difficult at first. But I relied on the fact that when you give up or slow down is when you stop really digging and are just a casual observer. A fool on the sidelines; an amateur lost amidst the play of the big leagues. And these things, surely, I am not.
I continued driving, now pushing 10 hours. I made S-ville with haste. I found my Goodwill, I found my bin, and I started over and worked towards what I always seek, and what had come undone moments earlier but now forgotten.
I found a Corey Hart album I would have considered had there been more to buy (besides a lonely, empty jacket). I found perhaps the most tattered album I’ve ever seen (depicted below). I found a copy of Eng’s debut (not mono unfortunately). I found some nice 8-tracks. I found another copy is a very pleasant A&M comp of which I already own doppelgängers. And then I found what I was destined to find, here, so far from home.
Just the other day I had complained at finding Mr. Miller’s third in stereo yet again. Apparently I complained loud enough for the Puppet Master who runs this show to hear and I have now been silenced.
