At 68, My Wild Urges Have Finally Arrived
North Star Writers Group
December 19, 2008
By Bob Batz
I think I´ve finally reached the "Let´s Get Crazy" stage of my life.
They say many people, especially men, go through this stage at one time or another. Most of them, I´ve heard, reach that point when they are in their 30s, 40s or 50s.
I waited until I was 68 to do it.
I define the "Let´s Get Crazy" stage as a time when a person gets . . . well . . . um . . . weird urges.
My first such urge came to me on a Tuesday morning a couple of months ago when I suddenly felt an enormous desire to buy a motorcycle.
Don´t get me wrong. I´ve done some pretty daring things in my 68-plus years.
I mean, hey, I grew up in Flint, Michigan. I´ve driven a fire engine. I´ve engineered a passenger train across the flat-as-a-dinner-plate Midwest farmlands. I´ve ridden with vice cops in Miami, Fla. I´ve played Santa Claus at a kid´s daycare center.
But, alas, I´ve never owned a motorcycle. In fact, I´ve never even been a passenger on a motorcycle.
The bike of my dreams is a bright yellow Harley.
I told my first wife Sally about my sudden urge to take to the open road on a yellow Harley.
"Goody," she replied, not looking up from the magazine she was reading.
Eight days after the motorcycle episode, I was seized by another urge. I found myself wanting to be a circus clown. I´ve never been a circus clown and it looks like it could be one heck of a lot of fun.
"I´m thinking about becoming a circus clown," I told Sally.
"Peachy," she said, not taking her eyes off the TV show she was watching.
Buoyed by my wife´s intense interest in my late-in-life urges, I made a list of all the things I´d like to do now that I´ve turned 68.
Despite my fear of heights, I´d love to parachute from an airplane. I´d also like a chance to go fishing with one of those TV show hosts who always catches a thousand or so 200-pound bass during a 30-minute program.
I have so many late-life urges . . .
I'd appreciate a chance to win just one argument with my wife. I'd like to get a tattoo that covers most of my right arm and conveys the message "Born to raise hell."
I´d love to be able to eat liver and onions and dunk a basketball and write a best-selling novel.
Lots of guys I know wish they had a million dollars. As for me, well, I´d be just as satisfied if I could just once par a hole on a golf course.
Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com
2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.
I think I´ve finally reached the "Let´s Get Crazy" stage of my life.
They say many people, especially men, go through this stage at one time or another. Most of them, I´ve heard, reach that point when they are in their 30s, 40s or 50s.
I waited until I was 68 to do it.
I define the "Let´s Get Crazy" stage as a time when a person gets . . . well . . . um . . . weird urges.
My first such urge came to me on a Tuesday morning a couple of months ago when I suddenly felt an enormous desire to buy a motorcycle.
Don´t get me wrong. I´ve done some pretty daring things in my 68-plus years.
I mean, hey, I grew up in Flint, Michigan. I´ve driven a fire engine. I´ve engineered a passenger train across the flat-as-a-dinner-plate Midwest farmlands. I´ve ridden with vice cops in Miami, Fla. I´ve played Santa Claus at a kid´s daycare center.
But, alas, I´ve never owned a motorcycle. In fact, I´ve never even been a passenger on a motorcycle.
The bike of my dreams is a bright yellow Harley.
I told my first wife Sally about my sudden urge to take to the open road on a yellow Harley.
"Goody," she replied, not looking up from the magazine she was reading.
Eight days after the motorcycle episode, I was seized by another urge. I found myself wanting to be a circus clown. I´ve never been a circus clown and it looks like it could be one heck of a lot of fun.
"I´m thinking about becoming a circus clown," I told Sally.
"Peachy," she said, not taking her eyes off the TV show she was watching.
Buoyed by my wife´s intense interest in my late-in-life urges, I made a list of all the things I´d like to do now that I´ve turned 68.
Despite my fear of heights, I´d love to parachute from an airplane. I´d also like a chance to go fishing with one of those TV show hosts who always catches a thousand or so 200-pound bass during a 30-minute program.
I have so many late-life urges . . .
I'd appreciate a chance to win just one argument with my wife. I'd like to get a tattoo that covers most of my right arm and conveys the message "Born to raise hell."
I´d love to be able to eat liver and onions and dunk a basketball and write a best-selling novel.
Lots of guys I know wish they had a million dollars. As for me, well, I´d be just as satisfied if I could just once par a hole on a golf course.
Contact Bob at bbatz@woh.rr.com
2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.