This past weekend kicked off with a scenic drive down A1A from Ponte Vedra to just south of St. Augustine Beach.
My friend Brian and I decided to make a weekend trip to my parents’ beach condo. Me sneaking out of work early to make the drive and him road tripping from Gainesville. With an open two-lane strip of asphalt whirring beneath me, a deep blue ocean creeping up my left side and sunshine and cloudless skies above me, I felt like a 16-year-old on his way to pick up his girlfriend on a Friday night.
I pulled up to the condo just past 5:30 and spied the infamous blacked out Grand Cherokee waiting on me. Some of my best (and worst) college nights began and ended with a ride in that Jeep. Introductions were short and discussion immediately turned to booze…
This was the start to a “guy’s weekend”. Football on the beach, whiskey and tequila shots, a cigar or two, an epic Grooveshark playlist and nights out on the town in downtown St. Augustine. No plans, just an “all I do is win” attitude. And win we did.
Yet, even in the midst of great times, you find yourself reminiscing about old times. Here we were creating memories that will stand out as much, if not more so, than the college stories we’re so fond of reciting, but still, we drift back to discussing the “good old days.” We’re still single, in our 20s, and life is good. It’s not college for sure, but with less time and more money, you adjust. All I could think was weekends like this should be the rule, not the exception.
Having stories to tell is a topic Brian and I have discussed many times. And after a wild night out in St. Augustine Beach, sitting on the 4th floor balcony of the condo looking out into the darkness where the ocean was supposed to be, we covered life since college. We talked girls. We talked work. We talked about growing up. And with each topic I found myself rambling on about how life is really just a series of stories.
The takeaway from our conversation didn’t hit me until the next day as we floated lifelessly around the pool, our heads still pounding from the awesomeness of the night before.
The only way to relive the “good old days” is to create new stories. And the only way to create new stories is to quit worrying about how things used to be and start enjoying how they are now. Not every moment of college was amazing or epic or even enjoyable. But the times that were, I’ve recounted a million times. My friends and I have told our best stories so many times, I’m not always even sure what’s true anymore. And to be honest, I’m not sure it matters, so long as we continue to create new ones.
Here’s to creating new stories and to Summer 2010, the next set of good old days.