Expect Different

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I have documented well my preference for sports teams outside of the state of Ohio over the years but at 63 years of age sports is not that high on my list of priorities. When it comes to baseball I have been a Pittsburgh Pirate fan since puberty, about as long as I have been an Oakland Raider fan, and when it comes to college football I prefer The Michigan Wolverines over all others and have since 1975. I am allowed to like what I like even if I do live in a city (Columbus, Ohio) where I am surrounded by and constantly heckled by rabid fans of the Ohio teams, and the energy it requires for most of them to express their allegiance to their favorites while relentlessly putting down mine is something a guy like me grows used to but will never understand. It really is a priority for the majority of Ohio sports fans to behave this way, they cannot help it and that's okay with me because 40 years of enduring them hasn't changed anything for either of us. I still like what I like.

On Thursday, September 3, The University of Michigan opened their 2015 football season by losing on the road to a pretty good Utah team. That's just college football to me, it happens...more frequently than I would prefer but it happens. I will go about my own life regardless of what college athletes can or cannot accomplish on the field, but as I expected my friends who are Ohio State fans began reveling in the glee that Michigan lost within seconds of the final score (24-17) by flooding my email box with taunts and disparaging remarks about the Michigan football squad and their new coach and even his family! The message box on my facebook page was also inundated with the same senseless frivolity and I expect it will be a long season for me as well as them. They will spend a great deal of their time boasting and carrying on while I will be looking for more prosperous ways to fill my time.

In years past I would have played along if for no other reason than to amuse them but in recent years sports has fallen to somewhere near the middle of the list of what I really care about. I think a lot of that has to do with being 63 and accepting that people my age don't really look that appealing dressed in sports attire such as football jerseys or painting our faces in our favorite team colors. Actually, I stopped doing that when I was in my late 30s and just moved forward, concentrating on things that mattered more to me than whether or not my favorite teams are better than anyone else's; in other words, life got in the way of trying to hold onto my youthful priorities until I die. It is difficult for my friends that are  my age and Ohio sports fanatics to comprehend when I tell them these things because to many of them, it is a way of staying in a place that makes them still feel as if they fit in with a college crowd. This is not a knock on my contemporaries who go about life differently than me, just a quandry that I don't think I will ever understand. I don't see athletes as Gods and I wouldn't trade anything I own for a sports jersey, let alone spend money that I would rather keep on one. For me, money and everything else I do trumps anyone's won-loss rcord.

I see people in their 60s still arguing and fussing over their sports favorites and I smile the same smile that creases my cheeks when I see them still trying to dance the Twist anytime they hear Chubby Checker sing it. I want to change the subject and ask them what they think of the violence exploding in our country and elsewhere in the world, or maybe bring up my thoughts about an impending election but then I remember, this isn't the time nor the place and certainly not the people to engage in matters that mean more to me than last night's loss for the Wolverines. Their loss was a cause for celebration for people that don't like them and who am I to spoil what is so amusing or important to them?

So instead of allowing myself to be their sounding board (as if they will ever have enough of those) I will concentrate on my own endeavors; I am writing an entry in a blog right now and before I finish I will have to feed my dogs and do a few other domestic chores, and then I will spend a little time promoting my books, checking the sales of them and then go about whatever else the day will bring.

Michigan lost last night and so did the Pirates, but had they both won I still wouldn't change anything about how I will spend this day. The winners will move on and so will I. I get another day older today and there is something else about that my friends in the hometown bleachers will have difficulty coming to grips with; I came to grips with it! I am no longer among the young, I am not a college sports Hell Raiser and nothing the Wolverines could have done last night would have made me wake up feeling giddy and eager to act like one. I keep finding ways to embrace being in my 60s and one of them is the peace that comes with knowing I have done enough with my life to set more meaningful goals that have nothing to do with sports frenzy. I guess in that regard I am the luckiest guy I know. I got here by being different. Being old isn't so bad that I need to fly a Michigan flag from my porch to feel better about it. We are all racing toward death at this age even though some don't want to think about that, and for some, never letting go of a particular passion and never throwing away old toys might be an acceptable distraction from facts but not for me.

I hope my favorite sports teams win every game they are capable of winning, but if they don't, there is always next year. I hope I am still here then and if so I will still like them, and if I am still around I will only be another year older and I will have to keep finding ways to sort through my own priorities and accomplish more than just be an aging cheerleader. Those fans that only like Ohio sports teams will spend some time today watching a clock and staring at a calendar to countdown the days, the hours and minutes before the OSU kickoff to a new season. Meanwhile I have no idea who Michigan plays next week and it really doesn't matter that much to me, only a little. Instead what matters most today is keeping my surroundings simple and staying as healthy as I possibly can.

Go Blue!

First the bricks...

The gorilla warfare being waged on America's police officers is only different from the murderous actions of ISIS in that ISIS kills as a group while hiding their faces behind a mask and encourages everyone to watch them carry out their executions. The intent and the reasons are the same, born from hatred that is instilled in them by those that lead them. Our American born killers are being brainwashed by people with talk shows and by a liberal government that hide their fake condolences behind words like "our prayers go out to the families of the fallen" but then go about business as usual. They ONLY blame gun laws and hope the masses will believe that if it weren't for the ease of good people to obtain them then we wouldn't have so many bad people using them to kill other good people. 

One hundred gang bangers can kill each other today and none of the politicians will even cock an eyebrow, let alone call it what it is and very few liberals in the media will even report it before a lengthy weather report or in depth sports story, if at all. And then when they do some knucklehead that has trouble with basic English language will be found in the crowd of bystanders to be interviewed and most of them are only there wanting to be seen on TV; (the dumber they sound, the more the media likes it) because it makes for more dramatic ambience to suround the story and they will be heard blaming everyone but the people that caused it. But let even one peace keeper take one of those thugs down in the name of safety to us all and peace for everyone else and it is called racism and probably poor training. But that's okay because Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders are now running neck and neck for the democratic presidential nomination. One of those liberals could certainly make our society safer because even though they have no clue whatsoever about what life is really like in the mean streets they are very good at making faces that at least seem like they are full of wisdom and concern. But if not, there is always Joe Biden if he decides to run. (I like it when they raise their voices and point with fingers at imaginary targets and say how tired THEY are of what's happening in our country.) Of course they are all full of shit but their rhetoric gives people that can't think for themselves hope.

Regardless of which one of these concerned people gets the nod there is always Al Sharpton to explain how we can fix things to them and to the gallery of misinformed misfits that follow him. By the way, President Obama clearly listens to him because he has taken to echoing him a lot lately; blaming the people and symbols that represent American history for all the things they believe have made us such a crummy country for more than 200 years. To them it is my fault and the fault of all of us that were born before 1960 that hasn't yet signed up for marches and parades that they support. Most of them are attempts to shame everyone, whether we had anything to do with their problems or not and to remind us that we have been going about things all wrong before they took over the podiums. He is in Alaska to rename a mountain that for decades was a monument to another American president, but to his credit he did finally pause for a minute or so to call the wife of a murdered police officer to tell her that she has his and Michelle's prayers. Maybe his next act will be to travel to Queens and rename JFK International Airport. We can only hope or pray that another police officer, or two or more isn't executed before then. 

As a retired cop who has several children now serving the thin blue line I am sickened by the lack of response and support for law and order by those with important titles, big salaries and familiar faces that keep telling us they know what is best for America but do very little more than make speeches that amount to nothing. Their words and their actions have cultivated and nourished this warfare being waged against the very people they rely on to keep them safe. Nearly a million now serving and millions more like me that did can change this by calling them out and then throwing them out. I was a lifelong democrat and I only apologize for being one for the past eight years. America has not grown better under liberal ideology, it has become more like a dangerous freak show in some ways, with ringmasters encouraging the audience to participate in things that could harm everyone and kill many.

From here on out I will only support the people that believe all of our lives matter and admit that some matter more than those that can only bitch, complain and destroy and never do anything that is for the good of everyone. As someone whose patience has run out and whose compassion and generosity has been grossly taken advantage of I encourage everyone to rethink their priorities even if it means switching political loyalty. For what it is worth, I will not be supporting a democrat for president this time because this one has let us all down way too many times. 

Strictly from a sense of decency and what I believe is best for everyone I have turned a deaf ear to anyone that is blinded by liberal viewpoints that coddle the bad while crippling and destroying what is really good. The lberals will scream in unison that it is me that is blind, that I am the problem because I speak my mind instead of echoing theirs, but that's okay because I am counting on the silent majority to keep letting them whine the loudest, chant their chants and hold up their signs to show us all further why they cannot be trusted to lead. I truly believe that there is a silent majority of Americans that are fed up but won't let their voices be heard until they step into voting booths.

For now, Donald Trump looks like the last real American in the group that wants to lead from the top. Had someone told me before 2015 that I would ever support him for president I would have laughed and called THEM crazy, but then 2014 ended with one police officer after another being executed and now here we are. More cops being killed for only doing a tough job in a country that has sacrificed its morals and decency for coddling people with niether. Say what anyone might about his arrogance, but I believe our only option now is to elect an arrogant man that I think means it when he says he can afford to be one if that's what it takes to reel in the people causing the most damage to our country, both economically and with needless bloodshed, usually killing the innocent and then crying when criminals fall. 

By the way, I also believe it is my own arrogance and wilingness to leave behind what others call politically correct ways or thinking that keeps me safe; it is my willingness to do and say whatever I think is neccessary to stay that way. We all follow our own roads and if we hold onto the compass and trust our instincts instead of our career politicians and the media we can move past this lunacy that has been tearing down our country in recent years. Even if it means listening to old white men like me and Mr. Trump that remembers when we were better than we have allowed ourselves to become. I also believe that more people agree with Donald Trump than are wiling to admit. Some cannot afford to admit it but I think there really is a silent majority that might. Some despise him for his wealth and question how he came about having it, but if he is willing to use it for the good of the country then I hope he gets the opportuity to spend it for that. Follow your heart, but use your brain too, and bless the peace keepers and keep them all safe. We all have a stake in this, not just the Hell raisers and their supporters.

The "e" is for "Escape"

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It is away from reality when I need to be there, and it is a sanctuary where I control everything that happens around me. I began exploring internet radio about five years ago as an alternative to the more popular social networking sites where everyone or anyone can weigh-in with their own opinions or as often is the case, their own personal brand of lunacy.  I tinkered with a site called "Classmates.com" not knowing what I expected to find there and it was a bust because all it was was a barely populated haven for old schoolmates that had very little to share and even less in common with the people I knew them to be fifty years ago. We all grew up and moved on and took very different paths through life and I guess there was a reason for that; perhaps to escape from something when we began to understand all the reasons we should. Then at the urging of a friend I looked into something called "My Space" and soon discovered it was more like a virtual playground for kids from 5 years old to about 25 years old, mostly females making duck-faces and sharing other photos that were poorly posed and not well thought out. And then I caved into my curiosity to learn what "Facebook" was all about and why so many seemingly intelligent people from the entertainment and professional ranks were saying that it is the new telephone but with pictures and the easiest method of communication since the invention of the telegraph.

It was only because I recognized so many people with pages that I decided to give it a whirl and start a page of my own; and then another one...and then another one. As my main page grew to 5000 or so-called friends of which I actually knew less than 20 I saw it as just a convenient way to spy on society and watch the world outside of my own tick along at a pace and in a way that I knew I wanted no part of. Still, I became as active as I was willing to be by doing very little more than just promoting myself and a few of my own ideas, sort of like what everyone else was doing but holding more back than most are willing to. After about five years I think I am way ahead of that eight-ball because I have managed to weed out and unfriend about a thousand people that I knew I would never have anything in common with and probably that many more weeded me out and away from knowing any more about them than they already taught me. Eventually I will need to ignore a few thousand more and probably more than that but I am in no hurry. Instead I will be content with being unfriended by a few more each day and allow us both to escape the other at a slower but steady pace.

I don't pay as much attention to Facebook as I used to because of all of the topics that continued to be hammered that I care little or nothing about and in time I will also walk away from my internet radio social networking site called "Heartlites" because that's just what I do; I walk away from people and places very easily when I feel I have gotten all there is to get from either. I still enjoy doing live internet radio shows but I stopped caring if anyone likes what I do or if anyone even hears it! For now I am tinkering with the idea of renewing my yearly contract with the Live 365 network that carries my programs but unless I can come up with a new direction for it I may walk away from it before the end of the year. The truth is, I don't need to do it any longer if having a place to escape from something is all it is. But in the meantime I will go there sometimes at night to stir up a few memories and see where my mind can escape to for a few hours. But what is undeniable is that I am away from mainstream lunacy. There won't be anyone there to remind me that black lives matter and no one to point out why they don't. I won't have to endure anyone's take on who should be president and I won't have to worry about anyone putting anything else in my face that I don't care about and no one has any chance of leaving unwanted messes behind for me to clean up by having to delete them.

Did I get your attention with that last sentence? It was written to do that; part of that edge I have and continue to nurture as I fondle with these keys to do what everyone else on Facebook hopes they can keep doing day after day, after day. The difference between me and most is only in the content and volume of what I am willing to share; that and where the best stuff can be found. Actually the best stuff is here; I dole it out in abbreviated doses and then steer readers to Amazon where hopefully I can sell them a few books and supplement my meager income. But this too is my escape and very few people from Facebook will ever read it because I believe my own research has proven that hard-core and dedicated Facebookers rarely read much beyond what is written beneath a photograph. This piece isn't likely to sell any more books, but like various other social networking sites there is always that one in a million chance that a serious reader will have read the entire text here and maybe be curious about something else I have to say!

As for where else I might escape if I choose to end my radio show, I needn't seek new ways or new places, I have everything I need to avoid being in any company I am not comfortable with. I call it my sanctuary from chaos, others refer to it as my home. But what few know about it is that there is no place on earth (at least not yet) that has as much as I need to be content and stay happy. I can lock out what I don't want in, block any views from outside by pulling a couple of draw-strings and turn everything off when I want to with just a few switches and buttons. Happiness for me has become all about escaping from one doldrum after another when things or people become doldrums. Not that I have much of that around me anymore, because remember, I have reached the age where a younger and faster world thinks we should be ignored. I am just making things easy for them.

I'll Take 1 Candidate And Raise You A Million

Party Bosses

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As a lifelong democrat it has become increasingly more difficult for me to understand my party, especially the local Franklin County Democratic party. In all honesty it is too far to the left for me to comprehend and in short, way too liberal. I don't know whatever became of the middle ground but there doesn't seem to be one anymore on either side; nonetheless, there are many of us who still believe that meeting somewhere in the middle of disagreements is best for everyone when one side refuses to budge. Most main-stream republicans are even worse with their extreme right wing agendas that I find impossible to embrace or even trust. So that leaves me scrutinizing all of the candidates more than I wish I needed to, looking for self serving hidden agendas that offer someone like me nothing while promoting ideas that I will be forced to live with even when they go against everything I ever believed in or hoped would someday come to fruition.

What I am seeing in my own party is a bitterness toward anyone who isn't on-board with every liberal idea they want to shove down everyone's throats, even when it is something that goes against ones faith or upbringing. There are no Teddy Roosevelt's, Ronald Reagan's or even Barry Goldwater's left in the red circles and neither are there any FDR's or JFK's under the blue tents anymore. Most of the time we only have a choice between extremes. We can vote against them both but all that usually does is make a statement, it doesn't elect better candidates because those people usually have no chance of actually winning elections. 

On May 5th Columbus has an opportunity to reject what the big- money party bosses on both sides have offered as choices for our next mayor because there are actually two democrats running who have stood up to them and said enough is enough. James Ragland and Zach Scott are the only two in this race that are offering any kind of change in how we select our leaders and how either will govern if elected mayor. I am as sick as they are of the cycle of being told how to think or how to vote by the democratic bosses and I resent them for calling Mr. Scott a mud-slinger simply because his ideas are not in lockstep with every extreme liberal idea they have; especially after receiving a mailed piece of propaganda from them that unfairly questioned Scott's reputation. In short they implied that because he had enough grit to question what they have been getting away with for decades that he isn't what they call a good democrat. 

I couldn't disagree with them more; the fact that he is willing to speak his true feelings and offer an alternative is exactly what I have always believed in as a democrat. If we don't question the status quo when it is no longer working or when it disrupts other good intentions than what have we become? When did the democrats take it upon themselves to discourage anyone outside its closed circles from wanting to contribute? I admire people for wanting to participate in their government and as a democrat I always believed that more people should. 

The sleazy mailer I received that asked me to join them in blocking anyone from challenging them was an affront to my ability to know what might be best for me. That took a lot of unmitigated gall and it lessened any respect I might have had for the chairman as well as the entire party. It was made of hard stock and was printed in color with a glossy finish and clearly a lot of dollars were spent on the production as well as the postage to get it out. What a waste!


But that's how it goes in politics; all is in fair when trying to control elections becomes job one. Two of the 4 major candidates in this mayoral election will advance to the November election regardless of their party affiliation and one of them isn't likely to be the lone republican who is running because their local organization has been in shambles for years and it appears they didn't think this one out any more clearly than they have others in recent years. I hope that the two democrats who do go forward are Mr. Ragland and Mr. Scott, because the one with the most money to spend in this election is only offering more liberal policies than we have had to struggle with over the past 15 years. Nothing against all liberals, but this is a new agenda that has never existed in my lifetime, one that leaves 2/3rds of us out and offers nothing to anyone who can see two sides of any argument. 

The hand-picked party endorsed candidate, Andy Ginther is young enough to be led by his bosses and his statements to date are indicative that he will carry out every liberal agenda they tell him to because he always has in the past as a city council member. They are gambling millions of dollars that he will emerge from the primary as one of two challengers for the final decision in November, but he has already tilted his cards and given us a peek of what we can expect if we select him, just a puppet whose strings will be pulled by the man who no longer wants to be mayor of Columbus, but who still wants to control the office, Mike Coleman. 

Good luck to Zach Scott and James Ragland in their quest to represent everyone instead of just a few pockets of society that Mr. Ginther has promised to be there for. I can bend a little to meet somewhere in the middle with the far left liberals who are now running the party, but I cannot surrender my soul and allow them to have it all without being held accountable for shady backroom deal making that cost tons and tons of our money, and without offering something good for us all in return. 

Disappearing Act

                                     

Less than 20 years ago I began hearing how we were losing more than one thousand World War ll veterans every day and it left a sobering effect on my own thoughts regarding mortality. In the grand scheme of time none of us really have that much of it from beginning to end and when someone we care about dies it is a wake-up call that we probably squandered a lot of it by not spending more time with them when we had the chance. My parents were from that generation and 20 years ago I wasn't giving much thought about them dying anytime soon, but 18 years ago my mother did and a year and a half later my dad followed. When they were both gone it left a void in my own life that will never be filled.

My work as a writer and publisher is packed with reminisces of growing up in an era that had little in common with the one I am currently navigating through and that includes most of the people around me now. Sometimes I wonder if I have lived too long and when I do the idea of rejoining my parents and the countless others I cared about who have passed on isn't that troubling to me. I have a friend who lives in Romeo, Michigan who is in his 90s and I recall when I first met him more than 35 years ago he talked about looking forward to the day he would die, but it wasn't about being fed up with living as much as it was about wanting to experience what he believed would be a better place in the after-life. All of these years later he still feels the same way and the last time we spoke he said he was disappointed that he has lived this long because now that he is as old as he is he feels used up, no longer relevant to anyone and because the aches and pains he feels now are worse than he ever expected them to be.

He was a Hell-raiser when he was a younger man and he misses that Hell. He was a hard drinker and a chain-smoker most of his life when he was able to afford both and when he had the freedom to go out and indulge, and he was a promiscuous man who looked for and usually found opportunities to quench those desires anytime he felt the urge. Having reached an age a long time ago where none of that is possible anymore has left him with a feeling of loneliness that is easy for me to relate to when I think of all things that I can no longer freely do. Age takes away so much more than good health and exciting desires, it can rob us of our self confidence and it becomes more and more difficult to get any of it back when a younger generation looks at us and shows a reaction; it is usually one of disinterest or an expression that they would rather avoid us and just move on to someone, or something else.

When that happens we are left standing in a place that no longer seems familiar, surrounded by people we don't understand and who don't understand us and wondering what we can do to fit in with a world we used to have a bigger stake in.   

My old friend boasted that he had slept with more than one thousand women "before his gears ran dry and could no longer be greased"...that is how he speaks and I still get a kick out of hearing him talk that way even if the rest of the world around me might find such utterances offensive. The humor I found then and still find in my friend is that he talks of bad behavior as if it is a good thing while quoting passages from Scripture. Some might think of him as a hypocrite but to me he is no more hypocritical than anyone else I know who criticizes anything I say or do. I don't know any perfect people but I do know many who seem to want others to believe they might be. 

We all have our faults, and my friend is right when he says that eventually our greatest fault is becoming old, because the time does come when we are just in someone else's way. Not many people his age or even mine is likely to blurt out..."I remember pussy"  when asked what they miss the most about youth, but that is exactly what he said. Then he reminded me that those beautiful and interesting women that we always found desirable got old like us, and like us many of them became just wrinkled faces with bodies that have fallen victim to gravity and poor diets and with skin that enjoyed too much sun over too many summers. 

I miss that kind of honesty from men like him;  from that era when older guys than me didn't worry as much about what they said because they didn't feel as if they had to; ask a simple question, get a real answer with no polish or fancy frills. That's who those people were and how many from my generation used to be before so many of us felt we needed to change. My friend is part of that generation that is nearly gone now and I am shocked at how many younger people don't even care and how many more who are probably glad that society is turning the pages for what they regard as a better world without them. I suspect that many of them are feeling the same about my generation; that they will be better off without any of us who can remember the middle of the 20th Century as a better time than now. To them I would say be patient, time flies faster than you think and before you know we will all be gone and there won't be any traces of the world that existed before you got here. 

Indeed, every time an old historic building is torn down I am as sad as some are glad to see it obliterated and replaced with one more aesthetically pleasing to them; perhaps a new one made of glass and shiny steel instead of bricks and elaborate cornices; one with straighter and smoother lines that catch and reflect sunlight or the rays of strategically placed lighting. The appearance of brick and mortar is probably as drab to them as I am to them. 

As I approach my 63rd summer I feel I am nipping at the heals of being over the hill, others would argue that I have already crossed over it; especially those who have taken our places in jobs, and in places like stadiums and in lines at the supermarket. The truth is, my generation is disappearing too; I read or hear of the passing of people my age and younger more and more everyday and each time I wonder how much longer I will be here to share stories, or talk about the changes we have seen and why some of us are really not that impressed with most of them when compared to what we saw and experienced in life. 

That time when my parents were still here and when they mattered to a lot of people, and when their parents were still around and still had much to offer. Back when most of my own life still lay ahead and when remnants of the era before mine were still plentiful. Life was simpler and much easier then, so who wouldn't miss that?

When I write it is from personal perspective and experience and I don't expect any of it to be of much interest to anyone who doesn't think a little like I do. But I really don't care because even if only a few actually read it and understand any of it I still feel pretty good about sharing my feelings if only because I still have the desire and the opportunity to.
  
My old friend in Michigan might just outlive me and I hope he does, but I know he hopes he won't, and that comes from something else he told me more than 20 years ago; "I hope I am not around for very long when the rest of the world gives up on me."  He worried that life would suck if the time came when his hands were too shaky to light a smoke or pour his own drink. His words were funnier to me then but his message was sad when I got old enough to understand them. A guy like that isn't for everyone but I still like him and I like what he reminds me of; a place and a time filled with people who only wanted to live out their lives being graciously accepted for who they always were and leaving behind something good for the generations to follow. My grandparents probably died believing that but my friend and I both feel that they might have been the last ones who could.

Meet Trigger

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I was sitting in my studio late last night when I heard a noise that sounded like a car door being slammed and with the reflexes of an aging cat with arthritis I stood up slowly and walked to the front door to peer through the Venetian-blind; more out of suspicion than like the nosey old woman who lives across the street who does that constantly whether there is a noise or not. I think she stands guard at her own Venetian blind more out of fear of missing something than fear that anything out there may be amiss or even worth investigating. But I can't shake the natural reaction of an ex-cop whose instincts are to stay vigilante and pay attention to noises from dark places, especially in an area where car and garage break-ins are  normal occurrences.  Until a few weeks ago I might have moved even slower to take a peek because until then I would have suspected it was only someone coming home late or maybe a bandit breaking into someone else's car. When it is someone else's vehicle that is being tampered with I usually mind my own business because I am retired from chasing bad guys, but if they are after my stuff I want to know.

Two weeks ago that noise wouldn't have gotten my attention because the car I owned then was 14 years old with around 160,000 miles on it and it had a windshield that was cracked in 4 places, it also had a busted tail-light and four bald tires that were suffering from dry-rot. It was not something a thief would have even noticed sitting there, and in fact, a neighbor once crashed into it while trying to parallel-park, claiming he never saw it. That one was a Chrysler P.T. Cruiser that I called  "Life Boat", because even though it wasn't much of a car it would get me anywhere I needed to go in an emergency or anywhere I wanted to go within a few miles of home if the weather wasn't conducive for walking. I didn't worry much about anyone wanting to steal it unless there was some rogue old woman roaming around out there late at night searching for her dream car. The P.T. Cruiser was a hot seller in it's heyday because it caught the imagination of hundreds of thousands of elderly women across America who still had a driver's license and could still see over a steering wheel because it reminded them of driving or riding in cars owned by their fathers or husbands, cars with rounded fenders and running boards that were everywhere in the 1940s.

But the younger thugs out there who are looking for something to steal look for more sporty cars or cars that look expensive and when they see one they hope a laptop or a purse full of money and credit cars is lying on the seat in plain view. I never left anything in the P.T. besides dirt and dead leaves on the floor board that had fallen from my shoes over the years. I never washed and waxed that car in the five years I owned it, and when anyone would ask why I didn't, I would explain by asking them, "who would steal a dirty old P.T. Cruiser with a busted windshield?"

The answer  back from them was generally the same, maybe some elderly female car thief who always wanted one. Anything is possible in the world we live in now, but I never really worried much about something like that happening and it was one of the reasons I kept the old Life Boat. There was more stress driving it than there was worrying that someone wanted it for nothing. But that all changed a few weeks ago when I traded it in on something newer, one that didn't have cracks in the windshield and had two working tail lights and a car alarm that works. I had my mind on a Ford Mustang for a long time because let's face it, I am not getting any younger and there isn't much about me that is cool anymore, so why not buy a cool car? I figured even though the old P.T. was on its last legs I shouldn't think of myself as being on mine, I still have enough strength in them to mash down a clutch and feel something exhilarating when I release it. 

After all, this might be the last car I will ever buy; mortality is something I am reminded of more and more every year. It wasn't an example of going through my second childhood because I have already done that 4 or 5 times, and it wasn't a mid-life crisis moment because I passed mid-life a few decades back; it was all about having one more very cool ride while I was still able to get one and enjoy it. This could very well be one of the last few times that I shop for something extravagant or whimsical for myself, so if it is, I wanted something I can enjoy looking at as much as I do driving. 

But it is also a car that sort of stands out from all of the the others when it sits out there because its color is brighter and it seems to make a statement, unlike those run-of-the-mill more expensive foreign cars and SUV's my neighbors prefer, it is one that younger, more adventurous and unscrupulous southside dirty butts might notice first. So now when I hear suspicious noises outside late at night I have more on my mind. So far, so good; the security measures I have in place have worked. It sits in a well lighted spot, my nosey neighbor watches over everything and I have two big dogs with big barks anytime they hear anything withing a half city-block. And then of course, there is me. I pay as close attention as I can to my surroundings and I am a very light sleeper. 

When I came back into my studio to continue my internet radio program I reached for a record by the 1970s band,  America, and it dawned on me: the song was called Horse With No Name  and now I have a Mustang without a name. What should I name this horse; Seabiscuit? It sounds fast, but no, too lame. Perhaps Pegasus, but he had wings and the one in the center of this grill doesn't. Maybe Centaur, but no, he was only half-horse. And then, as if a voice from my past was whispering in my ear it came to me; give that Stallion a name that is easy to remember, one that evokes fond memories of youth like the car itself does, and one that others will recognize when they hear it; a name symbolic of what you hope it will bring to you. 

Just then I reached for a record by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans called, "Happy Trails to You."  As I listened to the song I heard another noise outside and went to peek. I needed to know that everything was okay out there, and that my new horse was bedded down safely for the night and being left alone in the dark, just as Roy would have done. It just makes sense to go with the name I picked for this one because it has become rather special to me just as Roy's horse was to him. Therefore, there can only be one suitable name for it, especially if it happens to be the one that will carry me off into the sunset of my own life!