My Spork has broken.
It is a sad, sad day.
You might thinking, ‘Brock is delusional… he’s mourning a piece of plastic?’
While there may be some validity in that assumption, I’ve still got a case.
I have often acclaimed that the ‘Spork’ is my favourite travel item, like in my ‘Best Things in My Pack‘ video.
It’s a fork. It’s a spoon. It’s a knife. It’s a masterpiece.
While anyone would look at this multi-use piece of cutlery and see nothing more than that, I am reminded of so many memories from my travels where this simple little thing saved the day.
From soupy rice meals in India, to canned spaghetti in the back of an overnight bus in New Zealand – the Spork has seen it all and served this backpacker well.
Oddly enough, this is not my first time I’ve mourned the breaking of my Spork.
My first one – which was green – met it’s end of days when it encountered an extra tough jar of peanut butter in Goa, India.
It literally snapped under pressure and that’s when this Red Spork entered my life.
My friend Brian so kindly picked it up in Toronto and brought it to me in Florence, Italy where we travelled together.
While I don’t suspect I’ll lose any sleep over it, my heart aches just a little bit seeing this poor little guy in two pieces.
There is not a single traveller I have coached on how to travel the world that I have not recommended get a Spork and there never will be.
When I am ready, I will make the 10 minute walk down the street and pick up a new one.
It says on the arm:
Light My Fire
That you did Spork. That you did.
