Old Trucks and Road Trips

High-mileage, early-model truck. Perfect for work or weekend projects. Some scratches and dings, no serious damage. Cranky starts, needs lots of TLC, but reliable. AM/FM radio with after-factory 8-track player. Still works!

Some people write their own obituaries. When I hit my early 50s, I drafted this classified ad as a favor to my wife, just in case she was inclined to put me on the market. The prompt was a visit to my doctor, whose evaluation changed from “You know, Mr. Bowden, you’re in pretty good shape for a man your age” to “You know, Mr. Bowden, it’s not unusual for a man your age to … (fill in the blank).”

I’m 54 years old and beginning work on a master’s program, which might also be a bit unusual for a man my age. Unfortunately, the first few steps have prompted some additional disclosures for my ad:

Subject to misfires. Shifts gears without warning. Needs LOTS of TLC. Owner’s manual lost.

I’m not sure if unintentionally cancelling my GRE after responding to the first question generated the ad re-write; but I do know there’s at least one young GRE monitor who was kind enough not to say, “You know, Mr. Bowden, it’s not unusual for a man your age …”

I loved earning my bachelor’s degree in mass communications. Learning the “tools of the trade” and actually seeing my work in print was thrilling. Now, as a 30-year marketing and communications professional returning for my master’s in journalism, I can’t wait to use those same tools to craft something spectacular. Maybe even give the ol’ truck a tune-up.

But the process is aging me. It began with studying for the GRE, where I found my old friends English and Math referred to as Verbal and Quantitative. My inner-Dorothy was warning me that we weren’t in Kansas anymore. I floundered through the e-application process, each step asking, “What do I do next?” And each time hearing, “The website explains it all to you.”

I am too old to be back in school. If the application process is this difficult, how am I going to do the course work? This is a young person’s game. Let’s put this ol’ truck back in the garage.

Cheap or best offer. Spare tire included. Will deliver.

In fairness to all involved … a few years ago, I found my elementary school report cards, and “Needs Improvement” appears as a consistent theme for “Listens to and follows instructions.” Unfortunately, I haven’t changed. I now approach projects with the joyous, decades-honed disdain of a man who amuses himself with his best bandito accent (stealing loosely from The Treasure of Sierra Madre): “We don’t need no stinkin’ instructions.”

One of the joys of reaching 54 is learning that stuff happens, and that it’s only stuff. It’s not the end of the world (like it might’ve been when I was 18). Pay attention, read the instructions, listen to that helpful person from the school who’s trying to save you from yourself, and make it happen (I hate having to give myself the same advice I give my kids).

So, here I am, typing my Introductory Reflective Essay on my new laptop. I laughed when I explained to my wife that it’s the same 12-point, double-spaced, serif-font format that I pounded out on a manual typewriter when I was learning to write for the University Press.

Back then, I was picking up new communications tools, marveling at the creative ways they could be used, and loading them into my truck (1977 Chevy step side pick-up, three-on-the-tree) for the welcome-to-rest-of-your-life road trip. Three decades later, I’m sharpening those tools, still marveling at the craftsmanship they allow, and, once again, loading them up for the road trip’s next leg.

And I love to drive!

Lose your flamingo? Don't tell anybody your age.

I have to pay more attention. Last week, I read a newspaper article about pink flamingos being stolen out of a yard here in Fort Worth. I also read an article about a home burglary where the report quoted the '52-year-old homeowner.' These could be the same article and for the sake of this post, I'm going to believe they are.

When I read about the 52-year-old homeowner, I felt so bad. Someone's ripped some poor old guy. Then it occurred to me . . . I'm 52!!!

About the same time, I received an e-mail from my friend TJ in Austin that included George Carlin's Views on Aging. Snopes says that George Carlin actually isn't the source of these views, although the Internet has attributed them to him since November 2002; but I like 'em, especially after I forgot my age and felt sorry for the 'old guy' whose pink flamingos were stolen.

TJ's e-mail -- and somebody other than George Carlin's views on aging -- wrapped up with the following (and I like it!):

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctor worry about them. That is why you pay him/her.
2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.
3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain idle. " An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.
4. Enjoy the simple things.
5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.
6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. Be ALIVE while you are alive.
7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.
8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.
9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, to the next county, to a foreign country, but NOT to where the guilt is.
10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

BUT . . . if the 52-year-old homeowner is anything like me, he may have just forgotten where he left his pink flamingos. I'm sure his wife knows. She's just fed up with him losing things and refuses to tell him.