Sign In | Create an Account | Welcome, . My Account | Logout | Subscribe | Submit News | Facebook | Twitter | All Access E-Edition | Home RSS

OUCH!!!! Living with getting older

October 10, 2011 - Jim Bartholow
How did this happen? The '60s were our time. Now, the 60s is my age group. Progressive rock — the music of Dylan, Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, Country Joe and the Fish, the Fugs, Mothers of Invention, Traffic — was so far off the mainstream it was only on the radio after 10 p.m. in Cleveland. Now, It's getting harder and harder to find those vintage tunes on Classic Rock radio. That's because Classic Rock has been redefined over the years to mean hits from the '70s and '80s. Maybe they're on Sirius radio, a real luxury these days. I do manage to find some good sounds on Suddenlink's Music Choice channels (912 and 924 are my personal favorites). Our kids manage to keep me in tunes with those greatest hits cd's at WalMart that you can get for $5.

Cars are another way we show our age. My first car was a 1959 Olds with fins out to here. I bought it in the spring of 1968 and sold it for $125 (hey, a big $25 profit) to some trucker who saw the for sale sign from the busy highway that passed out house. Next came my spiffy 1964 Plymouth that got me through school. It was a bare bones kind of car, beige and three speed. A preview of things to come, this really was an old man's car. But it ran and served me well through 3 years at OU. It even carried riders from Athens to Cleveland every other weekend for the whopping fee of $5, round trip. And Leslie and I still had money left over after filling up to get into the drive-in movie. Gas was 29 cents a gallon back in those days. The car finally died when I got to Marietta in 1972. For a while the only way to get it started was to arc the starter to the battery (or was it the engine block?) with a long screwdriver.

Other cars followed - Leslie's Gold Duster that got wrecked before we made a payment on it, the old Chevy wagon with a frozen fuel line, a white Olds, the purple Cordoba, a red Ford, a gray Dodge that talked to you, a Topaz, a Mercury, and finally 2 Chevy Impalas. My one step out of the sensible ride is what I drive now. It's a Chevy pickup truck, 1998 with 141,000 miles on it. We bought it last year. I love it. It's a clean vehicle and I've actually used it a few times to haul stuff. I don't have a bucket list, but if I did this pickup would be on it.

Aging isn't always a physical change, I've learned. Your mind plays games, too, making those memories dustier and harder to recall.


Article Comments

No comments posted for this article.

Post a Comment

You must first login before you can comment.

*Your email address:
Remember my email address.


I am looking for:
News, Blogs & Events Web