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Sunday Funny

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SaxMan

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It was a gorgeous Sunday in Maryland, so, of course, Jessica and I took a ride in the Sprite. As we're stopped at a light, a gentleman in a 90s-vintage BMW Z-series roadster pulls up alongside me.

He asks the usual question: What year is your car?
I answer: 1969
Then his follow up question: Have you owned it since then?
Me: Good Heavens, No! I'm not that old
His response: Well, I am. He quickly pointed out that he was the original owner of his Bimmer and had it for over 20 years. I complimented him on how nice the car looks. I do like those early Z-series roadsters, that and the 80s era 6 series are my favorites.

Now, I was wearing a hat and sunglasses, so my considerably graying temples were all that were shown...but this guy really thought I was at least 65 years old, which is the age I'd have to be to be the original owner? I guess I ought to think about hitting my scalp with some Just For Men or Grecian Formula 16.

In all honestly, I probably wouldn't have minded if my parents bought me a Sprite for my 2nd birthday.
 
The good news is that this was more a commentary on his age than yours - the bad news is that counting on my fingers, you aren't too far off the season of similar cognitive despair :cry:. Don't ask me how I know but I'll give you a hint - "In all honesty I probably wouldn't have minded if my parents bought me a Sprite for my 8th birthday." :grin:

I have chronicled elsewhere how I can't remember a thing anymore, but, I especially can't judge age or age differential, so I will regularly meet a colleague and "assume" we are about the same age only to do the mental math and realize we are 15 - 20 years apart. :frown: Of course the real issue is that I don't think of myself as my age but much younger.

The bad news is that I don't think I have a complete brain any longer - Mrs JP and I have concluded that while we aren't quite at one brain shared between two - we are at least 1 3/4 or even 1 1/2 between the two of us.

The good news is that thinking myself younger is generally a good thing (Provided there is no "hold my beer, watch this.) I remember sitting with some friends/ parishioners who were then in their early 80's but had know each other since high school. As they talked and laughed I realized that not only did they in that moment still think of themselves as being in that time (in a good way) but, when they looked at each other (spouses) they didn't see an 80 year old woman (or man) they saw a 21 year old with all the beauty and charm of the day they had met - and I'm OK with that. :cheers:
 
Beautiful observation, that last, JP.
 
I will say that just about everyone who is in the "I could have bought an LBC when they were new" demographic will tend to stop me and ask about the car. If they didn't own a car like mine at one point in their lives, they had a friend that did, and most of them talk about taking long road trips in these diminutive cars. So perhaps I should look at it as a compliment that I am worthy enough to be considered part of their generation.

In all actuality, one of the highest compliments I've ever received was from a former B-17 pilot who once told I he would have been very glad to have had me on his crew. He's since gone west, but I still remember him fondly.
 
It happened again today! I was filling the car with gas, got into a conversation, asked the year (1969) and asked if I had the car since then. Geez! Do I really look that old? Do people think that my daughter is really my granddaughter? I think I'm just going to have to start telling them "Yes...it was the best 2nd birthday present a boy could ask for, except that I couldn't reach the pedals".
 
On the upside, I filled the car after two runs to Westminster, Maryland and then to my office and Jessica's school today to pick her up. It's mostly two lane secondary roads with 50 mph speed limit -- near perfect Spridget conditions. The car turned in a remarkable (for me) 32 mpg, so I was quite impressed. These days, the car has been averaging 26 to 28 mpg depending on how hard I throw the car around.
 
About 5 years ago an attendant at a gas station asked me if I was the original owner of my '47 Chevy pickup which was built 3 years before I was. I guess I took it as a compliment.
 
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