Rumblings of an Old Man
The countdown finally ended.
Leap day, February 29th, was my leap day from the working world. My
last day of work. I am now in the ranks of the unemployed, although I
still make a decent living thanks to my retirement program from my former
employer. A friend of mine says I must now make friends with time. Not
sure what the hell that means, but he assures me that it will become
clear in time. I think I can wait.
I had lunch with that friend and another old riding buddy the week before I retired. Actually, it was a forced luncheon as they both told me they would come drag my scrawny ass out of the office if I didn't show up. I do not call these guys bluff. They are both bigger and meaner than me. Older too. I went.
The lunch progressed with small talk, shots of whiskey and yes, even some food. Pretty soon we began discussing riding and the weather and other such things that old farts discuss. Mike said that he couldn't get his old FLH shovel out as he was iced in. My Heritage was in a similar condition. Mike actually rode his dirt bike to the bar. Mind you, it has an electric starter and a radiator. While my other friend Steve and I were giving him shit about that, we both reminded Steve that he was riding a brand new Road Glide that wasn't even broke in yet. Steve then proceeded to tell us about the pipes on his old Road Glide starting to overpower the radio
... we all almost spilled our drinks on that one. Whiskey was damn near wasted spewing out of our noses. Of course we would never let that happen. There are, after all, thirsty, sober kids all over the world. I proceeded to tell them that I felt that buying a bike with a windshield (my Heritage) was the closest to an
"old mans bike" as I would ever get. I would never get a "Geezer Glide."
As we talked and drank, we soon began reminiscing about our younger days and how we would ride regardless of the weather or our level of inebriation. It became abundantly clear that we had made it through all
that shit lucky to have our noggins intact. How we had done it was another topic of discussion for another bottle and another bar. We did decide that we are now safer riders than before. Not because we want to be, just because we have to be. Old age brings on diminished reflexes. The trade off is experience. You learn to ride very defensively, sweeping the road, looking for the next obstacle to knock you down.
While it would be nice to ride as we once did, young and immortal, we now want to continue riding long into the future. To do so, we know that we must slow down and relax a bit. There is no more racing and hopping up our scooters. We keep them mostly stock. With a
"been there, done that" attitude, comes the realization that you don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore.
And that is a definite reason to get older.
Now send me some warm weather!
