Shame Memory

Aside from a person’s house, their kids, their wife, their husband, and their job, their car is pretty high on the list of important things one can possess. Nowadays, a car is almost a necessity within a family. And along with the need for a car, comes the satisfaction of owning a new piece of luxury. Knowing that you and your family worked hard enough to earn the privileges of having a nice, presentable, luxurious, flashy car is a good feeling. Prior to this immense moment of shame and guilt, I hadn’t thought of these factors and because of this, I committed a stupid act that has left me filled with guilt ever since.

 A few years ago during the summer, a few of my buddies were staying overnight at my house. We were staying in my upstairs garage. It had started to get late and we were looking for something to do other than watch reruns of Tosh.0 on TV. For some reason, I suggested an idea that another friend had mentioned to me a few weeks prior. We discussed where we would go, how we would commit this evil act, and when we would leave.

 We snuck out the doors of the garage, each of us with one flathead screwdriver tucked in our pockets or inside the sleeve of our sweatshirts. We walked down my alley and over a few blocks, keeping our eyes peeled the entire time. The hunt went on for a while until one of us worked up just enough courage. We gathered around the hood of a gold Toyota Corolla and watched as I slowly slipped the edge of the screwdriver in between the car emblem and the hood of the car. I moved my left hand from the hood to the end of the screwdriver and began to pry the metal logo from the front of the car. It took a bit of work but within no time, it popped free from the hood and was sitting in my hand.
          
Along with the gold Toyota, a silver Chevy and a small red Pontiac fell victim as well. After we had what we wanted, we made it back to my garage, safe and sound. We laid out what we had stolen so we could see the objects shine in the light. At this moment, my mood sank and my heart dropped without missing a beat. What had we done? This made us criminals. If we had been caught we were done for. The worst feeling was knowing that you debauched a piece of an individual’s prize possession, and what for? To look at a logo you see every day on TV? There was no going back at this point and there was no way I could fix what I’d done. The emblem is stuck away in the back of the room somewhere and each and every time I stumble upon it, it reminds me that I partially destroyed someone’s car. Something they worked hard to obtain and were proud to show off, I ruined it for them just for a quick rush of adrenaline.