The Sock Puppet Story

I have decided it's time to retire the sock puppet that has been living on the gear shift of my car for the last seven years:

(Please forgive the drawing. It didn't ever occur to me to take a photo of the sock puppet while it was still whole. Yes, I drew this today specifically for this post.)

This puppet came into my life on a blind date. While I was going to school at BYU, one of my roommates brought home a guy she had a crush on. This guy met me and thought it would be a great idea to set me up with his roommate. He then proceeded to invite me on a group date for that Saturday as his roommate's date... but didn't bother to invite my roommate as his own date. Therefore, I knew nobody there.

The date consisted of dinner (which I ended up making since the other couples and my date were all friends and just wanted to hang out and play games), and then each couple was given a pair of socks. My date and I shared a bright orange pair. We all sat down at a table laden with yarn, buttons, felt, glue, needles and threads, etc, and proceeded to make ourselves a custom sock puppet. I was the only one to give mine teeth -- the other crafters were very impressed.

At one point, one of the boys asked what we were all thinking: "What am I going to do with this thing?" Someone else responded, "Well, you could put it on your golf clubs, or your gear shift, or something." Thus, my sock puppet was born, and his home became the gear shift of the Ruby Red Pamplemousse.

I must say, that sock puppet has been the catalyst for many a conversation. Pretty much anyone who has had occasion to ride or even look inside my car -- including Jiffy Lube guys, friends, dates, family, everyone -- has noticed it and wondered why in the world I had a sock puppet sitting on the gear shift. It made for an entertaining conversation piece, and I smiled every time I saw it. Plus, there was the added bonus that it kept the black leather gear shift from burning my hand during those hot summer months. I tried to name it a couple of times, but could never remember the name. Harold? Horace? Howard? Something like that.

After a while, I realized it would probably be a good idea to wash the sock. Problem was, if I did that, the whole thing would fall apart. To preempt any unravelling, I went ahead and cut the face off. Then I sewed the remaining portion of sock together, washed it, and put it back on the gear shift. It's sat there ever since. Sadly, I have no idea what happened to the face. It was looking pretty pathetic by the end, with the mustache coming unstitched, the button eyes falling apart, and the nose missing, but I could have at least given it a decent burial.

It's amazing to me when I look at the underside of the sock to see the bright orange-yellow color, because it has faded so much in the last seven years. The top of the sock is now also threadbare. So, I retired it. It's been good to me and I'm grateful, but it's time to move on. My mother gave me a pair of brown socks that no one in the family has claimed, and now I have one sock for the gear shift, and one I can put on my hand to save it from the hot steering wheel if necessary.

It's the end of an era. Thank you, sock puppet, for taking such good care of my hands and my car. It's been fun!