These bones are not for sale

I had put down a deposit.  Signed for a loan I didn't even ask for.

I wasn't even there when the deal was made.  My parents arranged it for me.  My life long loan.

Now I make payments every day.  I need to take care of it, pay the bills, make sure I fill it with fuel three times a day.

Sometimes I run it into the ground, sometimes I leave it in the garage to make sure it doesn't get rusted.

I have grown to like this loan, it's been fun, it has taken me places I could only dream of.  Something that seems like I'd like to have for a while.  But everywhere I looked, every loan agent I talked to, they all told me the same thing.

These bones are not for sale, they are not mine to have.  I only signed up for a loan.  Someday I am going to have to trade it in.

It doesn't matter if I take good care of it, keep it washed and out of the sun to keep the paint from chipping.  There is no form to sign, no money I can put down, no barter, no deal I can make to buy these to allow me to keep these old bones.  I just get to borrow for a while.

So if I need to turn these in, place my items back in the red envelope in the mail, stamp these with return to sender, they are not getting them back the way they gave em.  I am going to wear them down to the nub, nothing but nubbins, broken, used, worn, lived in, stretched thin and lived out.

That's why you don't people borrow things.

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