This week I retire my four-year-old Motorola cell phone. It has been my exclusive mobile device since August 2008. I kept it till it was literally on its last legs, as you can see from the photo. In addition to needing the rubber band to hold the flipcase shut, the membrane on the directional keys has completely flaked away and the exterior finish bears numerous battle scratches.
In my present state of mind, I can only recall that I was on this device when I received some of the worst news of my life. I know good calls must have taken place as well, but I really only remember the bad ones, and while it's not the phone's fault that the past four years have been rife with bad news, let's say I am not sorry to be taking this baby off its rubber-band life support system and giving it a proper funeral.
In fact, I thought it would be fun to have a nutty destruction ceremony (setting it on fire, dropping it onto the O-Train tracks or similar, and filming the results). However, there is evidently some sort of recycling program whereby I can send my phone to Fido Heaven and they turn it into food for the hungry or development programs for the disadvantaged. I'm all in favour of reversing the weird karma around this phone so off to Fido it will go.
Regardless of the nature of calls that took place on this phone, I would like to thank it for four years of tireless service. It has literally been everywhere and has served me well.