vaprep
Bronze Member
Virginia, October 1978.
Paula pulled up in the parking lot by the college tennis courts in her two-year-old burnt-orange Saab coupe, ready to meet her friend Erica for a quick set before going out for a casual dinner with her longtime boyfriend. As she walked across the well-manicured courtyard toward the chain-link fence surrounding the concrete playing surface, she had an extra spring in her step. She had just bought a brand-new pair of Tretorn Nylites, sparkling white with a blue stripe and matching lining. It was her very first pair, and something about them, like her Saab, made her feel special, even though she was a good student who worked hard in school, loved to play sports, and was nice to everyone. Catching her reflection in the picture-window glass of the adjacent student center, stepping jauntily along in her Dorothy Hamill bob, her close-fitting, scoop-necked yellow T-shirt, and blue Adidas running shorts, she liked the way she looked. Erica would be impressed.
Erica’s brown Honda Civic hatchback soon appeared, and the two friends waved to each other as she jogged to the court in a light blue Lacoste polo shirt, cutoff jeans, and Tretorns. Erica’s shoes were a lot more banged-up, stained and soiled from five years of wearing them virtually everywhere, except in the wintertime with her corduroys when Sperry Topsiders seemed more appropriate. But Paula thought Erica looked good in anything, and even filthy Tretorns were still the world’s coolest shoes.
Unzipping her tennis racket from its vinyl case, Erica said, “Hi!”
“Hi,” Paula retorted, smiling back as she practiced her swing. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ much,” Erica laughed, running a hand through her straight blonde ponytail as she removed the plastic aviator sunglasses from her head and tucked them into the equipment bag she had slung over one shoulder. “Killer biology exam today. Didn’t think I’d make it. How ‘bout you?”
“Same. Thought I’d get in a little workout, then Terry and I are gonna grab a bite. You and Robby wanna tag along?”
Erica shook her head. “Nah, sorry. Chemistry tomorrow.”
“Blech.”
“You said it.” Glancing down, Erica caught sight of Paula’s shoes. “Wow! Great Tretorns!”
Paula smiled. “Thanks! I just bought them this week.”
“Man, I wish mine still looked that good.” Serving the first ball, she added, “Mom says I need to get a new pair, but they’re so comfy!”
Returning serve, Paula agreed. “I know! I never want to take them off!”
Paula won the set 6-4. Afterwards, walking to their cars, the pair had to cross the grassy courtyard, since new concrete had just been poured on the walkway and was still wet. But the grass was also soggy from a recent rain, and when she was almost to the edge of the pavement, Paula stepped in a soft spot. With a sinking feeling, she froze in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?,” Erica said.
Paula lifted her right leg, looking like she was about to cry. “Oh no! Look at my shoes! They’re ruined!”
“Relax,” Erica tried to reassure her. “We’ll take them back to the dorm and hose them off. They’ll be good as new.”
“Aw, man! This will never come out!”
Grabbing Paula’s arm, Erica insisted, “Come on!”
The girls drove quickly back to the 1950s-era brick residence hall and found a garden hose attached in the back. Hastily, Paula removed her shoes, not even bothering to undo the laces, and her brow furrowed as she watched Erica hose them off with the highest-pressure stream the nozzle would allow. Moving inside to Paula’s room, they then hung the Tretorns by their laces over the shower rod to dry. Erica then departed, promising she would check the patient’s progress while Paula was out, after which Paula took a shower, changed into a yellow oxford shirt, tucked it into a pair of dark blue bell-bottom jeans, and slid sockless into her brown Sperry Topsiders, throwing a dark blue cable-knit sweater over her shoulders in case it got chilly on the way back from her date.
Paula returned three hours later, her sweater now layered over her shirt, its button-down collar peeking out through the sweater’s neck and cuffs folded back over the sweater’s sleeves, and found Erica happily sitting on the edge of her bed in a gray university T-shirt and crotch-length running shorts. “Well? Good news?”
Smiling, Erica produced Paula’s Tretorns from behind her back, the caked-on mud completely rinsed off, but with their mud stains dried into the fabric.
Paula gasped, choking back tears for a moment before Erica explained.
“I hate you!,” Erica joked. “It took me five years to get my Tretorns this dirty, and look at you! All you did was step into some mud and they’re perfect!”
Paula thought for a moment, and began to see the point.
“Look around you,” Erica insisted. “How many squeaky clean Tretorns do you see? You are truly one of the chosen.” With one of the shoes, she then jokingly touched one of Paula’s shoulders, then the other, as if she were royalty knighting a subject with a sword. “Go forth, and impress the masses!”
The two friends broke up laughing, and fell into each other’s arms for a hug.
Paula pulled up in the parking lot by the college tennis courts in her two-year-old burnt-orange Saab coupe, ready to meet her friend Erica for a quick set before going out for a casual dinner with her longtime boyfriend. As she walked across the well-manicured courtyard toward the chain-link fence surrounding the concrete playing surface, she had an extra spring in her step. She had just bought a brand-new pair of Tretorn Nylites, sparkling white with a blue stripe and matching lining. It was her very first pair, and something about them, like her Saab, made her feel special, even though she was a good student who worked hard in school, loved to play sports, and was nice to everyone. Catching her reflection in the picture-window glass of the adjacent student center, stepping jauntily along in her Dorothy Hamill bob, her close-fitting, scoop-necked yellow T-shirt, and blue Adidas running shorts, she liked the way she looked. Erica would be impressed.
Erica’s brown Honda Civic hatchback soon appeared, and the two friends waved to each other as she jogged to the court in a light blue Lacoste polo shirt, cutoff jeans, and Tretorns. Erica’s shoes were a lot more banged-up, stained and soiled from five years of wearing them virtually everywhere, except in the wintertime with her corduroys when Sperry Topsiders seemed more appropriate. But Paula thought Erica looked good in anything, and even filthy Tretorns were still the world’s coolest shoes.
Unzipping her tennis racket from its vinyl case, Erica said, “Hi!”
“Hi,” Paula retorted, smiling back as she practiced her swing. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ much,” Erica laughed, running a hand through her straight blonde ponytail as she removed the plastic aviator sunglasses from her head and tucked them into the equipment bag she had slung over one shoulder. “Killer biology exam today. Didn’t think I’d make it. How ‘bout you?”
“Same. Thought I’d get in a little workout, then Terry and I are gonna grab a bite. You and Robby wanna tag along?”
Erica shook her head. “Nah, sorry. Chemistry tomorrow.”
“Blech.”
“You said it.” Glancing down, Erica caught sight of Paula’s shoes. “Wow! Great Tretorns!”
Paula smiled. “Thanks! I just bought them this week.”
“Man, I wish mine still looked that good.” Serving the first ball, she added, “Mom says I need to get a new pair, but they’re so comfy!”
Returning serve, Paula agreed. “I know! I never want to take them off!”
Paula won the set 6-4. Afterwards, walking to their cars, the pair had to cross the grassy courtyard, since new concrete had just been poured on the walkway and was still wet. But the grass was also soggy from a recent rain, and when she was almost to the edge of the pavement, Paula stepped in a soft spot. With a sinking feeling, she froze in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?,” Erica said.
Paula lifted her right leg, looking like she was about to cry. “Oh no! Look at my shoes! They’re ruined!”
“Relax,” Erica tried to reassure her. “We’ll take them back to the dorm and hose them off. They’ll be good as new.”
“Aw, man! This will never come out!”
Grabbing Paula’s arm, Erica insisted, “Come on!”
The girls drove quickly back to the 1950s-era brick residence hall and found a garden hose attached in the back. Hastily, Paula removed her shoes, not even bothering to undo the laces, and her brow furrowed as she watched Erica hose them off with the highest-pressure stream the nozzle would allow. Moving inside to Paula’s room, they then hung the Tretorns by their laces over the shower rod to dry. Erica then departed, promising she would check the patient’s progress while Paula was out, after which Paula took a shower, changed into a yellow oxford shirt, tucked it into a pair of dark blue bell-bottom jeans, and slid sockless into her brown Sperry Topsiders, throwing a dark blue cable-knit sweater over her shoulders in case it got chilly on the way back from her date.
Paula returned three hours later, her sweater now layered over her shirt, its button-down collar peeking out through the sweater’s neck and cuffs folded back over the sweater’s sleeves, and found Erica happily sitting on the edge of her bed in a gray university T-shirt and crotch-length running shorts. “Well? Good news?”
Smiling, Erica produced Paula’s Tretorns from behind her back, the caked-on mud completely rinsed off, but with their mud stains dried into the fabric.
Paula gasped, choking back tears for a moment before Erica explained.
“I hate you!,” Erica joked. “It took me five years to get my Tretorns this dirty, and look at you! All you did was step into some mud and they’re perfect!”
Paula thought for a moment, and began to see the point.
“Look around you,” Erica insisted. “How many squeaky clean Tretorns do you see? You are truly one of the chosen.” With one of the shoes, she then jokingly touched one of Paula’s shoulders, then the other, as if she were royalty knighting a subject with a sword. “Go forth, and impress the masses!”
The two friends broke up laughing, and fell into each other’s arms for a hug.