A friend stopped by and was complaining about how he
hated getting old and since my standard comeback
didn’t work I tried a different one. Usually at times
like that I just say “beats the alternative” and
He was on the pity pot, shook his head, and said he
just thought his life was over. So I brought out the
big guns. I told him that were probably the last
generation to know how to drive cars with a manual
transmission, drive endless miles of gravel roads, use
an outhouse, or hear all the legendary bands.
When we were younger everybody we knew had a 4-speed
in their car, worked hard so they could play hard, and
knew how to have fun without the aid of electronic
gizmos. We played baseball in vacant lots, had some
means of getting around, respected our elders, and had
an unbreakable sense of patriotism.
We lived large, raced hard, chased the girls, and had
no complaints. Time seemed to run slower back then. If
we had to wait a few days on parts it felt like a
week and when our elders told us time would fly by
when we got older we didn’t believe.
Although we can’t do now what we did then we do have
the memories. If digital cameras would have been
around then we’d even have the pictures to prove it.
And after almost 50 years we’re still friends.
Comments are always welcome.