. . . to save the blue doors.
As I drove to work today I passed a bulldozer and dump truck in place of the old Standard Oil and Produce building on Hwy 80.
I argued with myself about going back to see if they salvaged the doors. I would have paid. I was a 1/2 mile up the road before I finally tuned around. Sadly, those doors were probably the first thing to go. The young man in charge of the destruction told me they were gone. Did he not realize those doors had value? That they were worthy of being saved? I guess not.
Strange how things happen. One day last week I had a premonition that I needed to get those doors. I wish I had followed my instincts. Those doors would have made a great desk top or table.