1948 Chevy Convertible, my first car:
So for today:
They say Age is only a number. Shipmate Gary says his friend 99 says, ‘you are as old as you feel!’ But when it is me, I wonder how I made it this far?
I was lucky to make it into my teens. Like many boys 8-11 in my era, once you did your chores, most to us were free to wander far afield. As far as you could go and be home for supper. Midday meal (It was called dinner at my house) wasn’t always required at our house. But I knew it was there. Mama had no problem if I headed to the river or the woods, she knew I would not be home for that meal.
Many days I ate at a buddy’s house or them at mine. I do not think mama worried much. She knew I was playing (or on an adventure). It would be wonderful if those days still were around for kids. However we took lot of chances. Throwing fireballs into yellow jacket nests, when you climb trees, hooking a bike tow on slow moving trucks, climb rock walls, spend the night on small islands in the river or try to swim too far in that river there is always some danger.
Dad got me a car at 16, even more chances were taken. I keep thinking I had it a long time, but I couldn’t have. I had already rolled that convertible, tore it up, and lost my driver’s license, before I was 17. That was before insurance was required too. OUCH!
We married before I was 18; I still am amazed that she took a chance on a drop-out. It is a wonder Sherry didn’t do me in the first year. I am glad she didn’t.
The rest of my life has been pretty sedate, not many life threatening chances taken. I am thankful I have lived to be 82.
Forgive me for being obsessed with age, I just never been 82 before, actually never expected to see 60. Life is good. I haven’t struck a match lately, I bank the fire pit at night and throw leaves on in the morning and she kicks right in after smoking a little. Tiger Tom came out and sat in my lap during one of my breaks today. I thought the cat would be more afraid of an open fire, but he sat there and accepted the petting.