My Walker

As I sat getting my hair cut today, a young fellow walked in wearing the standard early-twenties wear or a t-shirt and jeans. He grabbed Stuff magazine and took a seat. Close as I was to Vito’s wattle, I found myself reflecting on just when exactly it was I stopped wearing T-shirts as outerwear, and when Road & Track started to seem more appropriate than the “men’s interest” periodicals. That and why I was getting a haircut on the first day of vacation. Getting old, man. Getting old.

3 replies on “My Walker”

Does 30 really do that to a guy? I mean, will I really soon be calling some whelp a “young fellow”? Do I have to wait until 50 or 60 before “whippersnapper” enters the parlance?

More importantly, how the hell did it take me this long before my brain registered that you had an online journal and I have been woefully neglecting it? Man, I suck. Prepare for some seriously backlogged comments over the next few days! Maybe I’ll even update my own this month!

No reason to wait. I say jump right into “whippersnapper” mode. Get a cane first — the brandishing is key.

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