Ripper

Name brands have a tendency to become synonymous with a product or object. Examples include Jell-O for gelatin, Band-Aid for an adhesive bandage or Q-tips for cotton swabs. Growing up in Atlanta every drink we called everything Coke or Tea regardless of the beverage. I'm trying to set the stage to claim a predisposition for continuing the practice into adulthood. Ripper is a brand name I have always used in reference to a product, a Velcro pouch for your shoe strings to hold keys or small objects. When I was in middle school Zipper was a highly popular name brand. To have one carried a desirable social status. At the time, the highest status was to attach the Ripper to a white canvas Nike tennis shoe, the one with the light blue swoosh.

 

As a runner I have always had a Ripper (for practically purposes only :-).  For over twenty years I have placed car, house, hotel and work keys in the little pouch and have run many miles all over the world. Prior to yesterday the Ripper has always worked perfectly.  I had been out for well over forty minutes of running hills, in grassy parks, on volcanic debris, gravel and on streets in Easter Island. As I was running I felt something akin to my shoe coming untied. To my surprise the Ripper had loosened and was swinging across the top of my foot. 

 

I was so happy to have realized it before the pouch completely came off the shoe. I stopped re-affixed it and continued running for another mile or so. When I arrived back at the hotel I thought again about how fortunate it was not to have lost the key on a trek I'm not sure I could retrace step for step. Then I discovered the Ripper was empty. Yikes!

 

I turned and ran, fast, back to the spot where I noticed the loose Ripper. Luck shined upon me. The key was about three yards away. I was deeply grateful and relieved to have found it. Now, I am left to wonder if the Ripper's status value is greater than its utility value.

 

Style? Run!

 

Tom