Friday, January 20, 2012

One of those moments

Friday afternoon. Heading home from work, I pull onto the heavily congested highway. It's a beautiful day- high 70s, sunny, a little haze in the air. So, I decide to open the sunroof and windows of my paid-for sensible sedan with a child safety seat in the back.

I start to get up some speed, I feel the wind in my rapidly graying hair, and I reach down to crank up the volume so I could hear the AM talk radio. Right then it hits me:

Damn. I'm old.

I need to go shooting this weekend.


  1. Yeah, I'm sure we all swore we would go out fighting and then one day it hits you. You're old.

  2. and responsible! How in the hell did that happen?!?