I’ve never really paid much attention to age. But a milestone birthday is looming — a number I always associated with being old.
Family history hasn’t helped either. As far as I know, no male in my family has made it to 70. Very few even made it to 65.
So lately, I’ve been caught up in the math, figuring I have maybe four good years left.
My doctor disagrees. He’s convinced I’ll make it well into my seventies.
Regardless, the reality check has had me reliving old adventures… and trying to create a few new ones.
I’ve been doing a lot of solo adventuring lately. It’s been good for the soul, but honestly, it’s limited the kind of rides I can tackle.
The old riding crew? Some have passed on. Some drifted away. Some… well, let’s just say there are good reasons we don’t ride together anymore.
I’m not exactly a social butterfly either. I don’t enjoy meeting new people.
I’ve made a couple new buddies — one’s moving to Idaho, and the other is tied up taking care of his wife, who’s facing some serious health issues. Seat time together has been rare.
Lately, I’ve really been enjoying rides with Fitness Junkie — my daughter’s boyfriend.
We’re plotting some loose plans for new adventures.
But riding with a “kid” who could probably ride circles around me just isn’t quite the same as hitting the trail with guys who have seen some shit and carry the same scars, jokes, and unspoken rules.
Where am I going with all this rambling?
Hell if I know.
I either didn’t have a point — or I forgot it somewhere along the way. (That happens more than I’d like to admit lately.)
What’s next?
Same as always.
Keep riding.
Keep chasing adventure.
And maybe… prove the doctor right.
