I have a confession to make and it’s something I’ve been trying to suppress in myself for a while. I am obsessed with backpacks. That’s right, backpacks.
I have my eye on a particular one and haven’t been able to stop debating the pros and cons in my head for a few months now. It does back and forth. Back support, storage space, compartments, style, bad.
Last time I told myself this was not going to happen. I spent two months researching backpacks, different brands and the ideal volume. I said this one is it. I will keep it for a good while. I won’t move on to a new shiny thing, but here I am. Breaking the deal I made with myself, going on Youtube watching videos discussing the features of different models—and yes these are a thing.
It’s been like this since I was a kid. Every year I wanted a new backpack even if I already had a perfectly good one. I thought I would grow out of it.
I had one backpack I really loved. Northface. Pretty colours. Good storage. It was taken from me when a 1L bottle of bicycle chain lube spilled on it. That stuff does not come out.
Then I moved on to my present one. It’s a Camelbak. Not so stylish but man is it comfortable and enough straps to carry everything I will ever need all at once. But one of them fell off recently and there’s a new backpack that’s caught my eye. It’s not so new and shiny anymore.
I love the new vintage style canvas backpacks. They look great but I work about back support. It gets me thinking I should be happy with what I have. Or at least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.