Scienced21 October, 2008
I have fallen out with my suitcase.
It’s not the retro look of the thing; I can live with the battered orange faux-leather and swashbuckling buckles, even though it invites regular mockery. (No, Rob, I didn’t get it from a car-boot sale, it’s practically a family heirloom.)
It’s not the handle, designed by someone who was apparently under the impression that ergonomics is for wimps.
It’s not even the gently rusting locks, or the broken strut that leaves one side partially open. This is, after all, a well-travelled suitcase.
No. It’s that pulling it by the handle over even the smallest of bumps sets off a sideways oscillation which isn’t damped by Ryanair’s regulation 15kg of stuff. There is an ominous rattling as it hops from one wheel to the other, which rapidly amplifies to full-on alternating wheelies. If you keep pulling, in an I-don’t-have-time-for-unexpected-science manner, it will carve wildly around the pavement behind you before finally toppling over. The orange faux-leather will smack onto the pavement for the nth time, and for the nth time I will wish I’d had the sense to take a taxi. Or… you know… buy a new suitcase.