Too many of my compatriots spend their golden years polishing sports cars to a high shine in the hope of attracting attractive women who are not their wives. While that is not a sanctioned trophy wife hunting strategy, it is tolerated by the the incumbents solely because it gets the old duffer out of the house. Mostly it's a harmless, yet expensive diversion.
I, on the other hand, am not trophy hunting and keep Camilla moderately dirty, so to spare my bride the ignominy of having a husband hanging around the house afternoons, I have chosen a close relative to assisted suicide. I bought a bike. My wife thinks I've gone mad.
Her questioning was predictable. My rejoined not so much. We have lived within a mile of our current apartment for the past 17 years. We like it here. Our new home is three blocks away. We know the neighborhood. Best of all, compared to the house in the woods, the new place is on flat ground, on once upon a time river bottom land, once the most fertile land in the state.
Where do geezers go anyway? From our new home: The library-2 blocks. Ye olde coffee shop-3 blocks. Post office- 4 blocks, Grocery store- 200 yards. Doc in the Box 100 yards. For this I want a car?
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