The old codger continues...

An observation from an old codger....nothing has changed...still the same guy battling to the end.

 Okay. I've had my share of coffee this morning, albeit it isn't Dunkin' Donuts coffee, but Folgers. I have yet to venture out. The sun is coming up, and I'm unsure if I should hit the batting cages or go for a bike ride on my new $ 550 Alibi Sport, a nice little ride for the senior citizen, complete with "no-flats-ever" tires. All I have to do is return to the bike shop when I'm 82 and get a new set of tires.

Ride, baby ride!

At 78, I refuse to be put on the mantel as a "remember when dude" whose relatives think the old codger is done and has nothing left to say that would be of any interest. I'm half joking, of course. They know I'm around somewhere, just not on the sofa looking for my next ailment.

Once in a while, I'll meet up with an old friend who faces the same dilemma. After all, "we" grew up in the 1950s, back in the push-button Edsel days, Elvis and Conway Twitty...and, oh well, you get the picture.

It's tough getting old and wanting to be noticed. Our government is just waiting for individuals like me to pass on so they can avoid sending out a social security check, which is the money I earned between the ages of 16 and 62. Yep, I gave it all up and retired early, right after a quadruple heart attack.

My problem is that little, obnoxious kid inside my antique brain.  I mean, that little fella in my head will not shut up. I guess I refuse to go quietly...even though I have to do my talking on my blog instead of sitting across from someone fifty years younger who is just starting out on the battered path I have already been down.

The good news is that I am Old, but I have finally stopped to smell the roses. Only my readers on my blog take the time to sit back and enjoy their own Folgers or their own brew in their Keurig coffee pot and read my ramblings. Yes, I know! Do not call it a pot.

I wish I had a few more old-time readers, but some of them need more time before they invest in a device that does so many things so fast that it makes their heads swim. But deep down, many of my friends know precisely where I'm coming from. They all have had a wonderful life without a laptop or a computer. In the long run, it's better that way.

Nowadays, you have to research what you watch on television. What channel and what network gives you a particular slant on things. That's politics, and I'm simply politically incorrect. So I don't venture there. There are plenty of sports to keep me adrift.

Don't get me wrong. I love this world and all the people in it. Anyone can tell by my writings that I love every character that walks the face of the Earth.

I know I'm an ancient relic. I'm not sure those two words go together. But what the heck, this is my blog.

I love the present. I hope to remain in it for a while longer.  In some ways, I'm just learning about life. Something has kicked in recently, and I have already warned my readers.

Again, don't get me wrong. I love the past, as in the 1950s, the 1960s, and the 1970s. Such good times. I can't believe I wasn't fond of elementary school, junior high, and high school ( at that particular time, that is). Now, I look back, and I miss it. I ran into a good friend from those bygone days the other day. He showed up at the ballpark to watch me and a bunch of old-timers play the game of baseball. It was a special treat, and it took me back to a time and place that I wish I could return. Michael J. Fox, where are you?

I'm riding down the road in my Chevy, sipping on sodas with my date, looking for the drive-in theatre, while Conway Twitty's Little Darlin' is rocking through the speakers ( I like a little country, too).

Life is so precious. This, however, is the most I can stay seated for any length of time.

I must be up and at 'em.

Note: This article has been updated. This old codger sold the bike months ago...I ended up with hemorrhoids. That's a story for another day, but maybe not for this blog. Not born to sit.