I love driving on the interstate at night. It’s best with good music on the radio, going about three miles an hour faster than the prevailing rate of traffic so you can pass people instead of getting passed. Just you and hundreds of anonymous taillights as far as the eye can see. Some random thoughts as I was cruising up I-29 on the way home from our annual family golf tournament:
It’s hard to feel manly in a four-cylinder half-ton pickup, no matter how bad you look in your wrap-around shades.
It doesn’t get much better than leaving someplace where people love you to go someplace where people love you.
With the notable exception of Boston’s long-play Long Time and a few others, most of the great music of my youth is actually trash.
Country music can have kind of a dorky sound, but they write great lyrics. “I’m not as good as I was once, but I as good once as I ever was.” For a 45+ guy struggling to accept that 7 ½ -minute miles are the new reality, that strikes a chord.
The new Christian bands (Third Day) are as good as any.
What does it mean when four middle-aged guys watch 3:10 to Yuma on a 36” TV but go to the theatre to see WALL-E?
You can tell the years are passing by – we spent as much time talking about our bad backs as about golf.
The two best moments of the tournament: blasting out of the sand trap on 17 to within two feet of the cup, thereby saving par, and realizing that my back is not as bad as my brothers’.
There actually is such a thing as too much chocolate. And yes, you can have chocolate with beer.
My nieces and nephew are way better-looking, and smarter, and cooler, than I ever was. If we were in college at the same time they probably wouldn’t hang out with me. Their folks probably wouldn’t let them.
It’s a good life, because we have a good God.
