Choose Your Weapon

So it's been over a month since I turned seventy years old. I remember when I was a kid and my grandparents were in their seventies. They seemed so old. Funny, I seem kind of old now too. However, all is not lost. I have found a certain advantage to turning seventy years old. It can be used as a very effective weapon. Like when I had it out with the delivery man parked in the handicapped spot. I definitely blurted out something about making a seventy year old man have to drag my sick partner out and around his stupid truck. At the grocery store I make all kinds of grunts and groans as I get down on the floor to get something off the bottom shelf. This almost always results in another customer rushing over to help me out. Often to help me pull myself back up from the floor. Ah, if only the store employees were that thoughtful. And of course there is that trip out to see Mom every week. I do like to drive fast, and often find myself to be faster than most of the other cars. Last week, as I blew down Orland Parkway at sixty miles per hour (Speed limit, thirty five) I came upon a radar cop parked in one of the driveways. Of course I slammed on the brakes, but I also made sure I took off my hat and let my gray hair fly. Old white guy, with gray hair, on the way to the old people's home. Nope, didn't get stopped. I saw the cop look at me as I went by, then look back up the road waiting for some young punk to blow through there. I plan to make the most of this old fart thing. Early bird special, here I come.