Near death of a perfectly good pair of glasses
Well I joined my Father and a few of his friends on a fishing trip about a month ago. We were fishing on the Wharerama river and were staying at a campsite next to the Wharerama boat club’s boat ramp. It’s a nice sited surrounded by farm land and the cockey had moved his bulls recently so we could here them occasionally during the night.
We’d driven down on the Friday night and set up our camp site. On the Saturday morning I got up had breakfast and then went to put my contact lenses in. Once my lenses were in I packed up my gear and through in the cab of Dad’s ute. Later on in the day after we go back from our days; fishing (nothing substantial caught) I went to take out my lenses and put my glasses on.
Well that was the plan. I quickly discovered that my glasses weren’t in their case, nor were they anywhere within the cab of the ute that I could see. Now this was bad. Why? Because it meant that I’d left my glasses on the ute, rather than putting them in the cab. Bugger. This was particularly bad since the ute hadn’t been stationary during the day. So it had maybe moved all of 150 m, but this had been to put his boat in the water and to pull it out.
So with increasing levels of panic I went and searched along the path that the ute had traveled to see if I could find them. Fortunately I did. They were sitting on the track down to the boat ramp and had been run over at least once. Amazingly they weren’t broken, although one of the arms had come off, but that’s been reattached.
It’d be unrealistic to expect them to come out unscathed and there are some bad scratches and a few small chips from around the edges. Nevertheless they are still usable, somewhat.