Fat, Fifty, and Receded Hairlines A Half Century of ME:

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

I never expected to survive for 50 years. For that matter, reaching 21 was somewhat of a surprise. In any case I have already received six or five phone calls reminding me that I will be 50 years old this week. I wouldn’t mind the calls so much if they didn’t act like I might have forgotten it. Is there some rule that at fifty you start forgetting things?
My problem with fifty isn’t that I have lived for half a century. Actually, I am fairly pleased with survival. My problem is that it hasn’t been fifty steady years of 365 days each. Just last year I was a carefree kid without a problem in the world. THEN, thump, and I’m fifty.
My hair receded, I gained 29 pounds, my beard turned gray, and it all happened overnight. What happened to aging with dignity? Just the thump and here I am. Tomorrow I am going to buy some baggy pants with suspenders, and sit around with my hands stuck in the waistband and complain about the Government and the younger generation.
Last week my truck Slight SI broke down. It was my fault. Ten years ago I was happily driving a 1973 ‘VW van as a service truck. I called her “the Frauline.” I was subjected to a fair amount of grief for being “the electrician in the hippie van” but the Frauline was great. There was room to “stash lots of stuff” or “to stuff lots of stash.” As a friend of mine says, “A place for everything and everything misplaced.”
Although I enjoy cars with character, I believe a car is nothing but a thing to move from point A to point B.When I was a teenager, a guy once told me that I needed a better car if I wanted to attract girls. My response was the girls that wanted to date a car could go out with him. I have never regretted that.
The Frauline got sick and needed a new engine. While I was waiting for the repairs, Management convinced me to buy a white standard issue service van. This was shortly after she convinced me to start wearing shoes. SI, which was short for standard issue, was useful but nothing special. I was later convinced to upgrade to a larger Standard Issue van named Heavy Si or Sigh if you prefer.
Two years ago when I was keeping the Walmart Baby, both of our cars’ heaters quit the same week. You can’t keep a baby in a car with no heater in December. I began searching for a car. My requirements were simple. It needed a heater and as always, it should cost less than $1000. I found the perfect car. It was a carefully pre-dented white minivan with a heater. The price was $800. I negotiated the seller down to $750 and we reached an agreement. He was a tough negotiator so I gave him a $50 tip.
Slight Si has been a good little van until I killed her last week. Those of you who don’t know cars have personalities might thing she just died but in reality, I killed her.
Like me, she had a lot of miles on her and was getting old, but unlike me was still useful. I just happened to be killing some time on ebay and found another pre-dented minivan. The price was within my usual parameters. I didn’t ask if it has a heater but who needs one in July?
I transferred the title, bought license plates and insurance and sent a young Jones to New York to get it. Apparently, Slight Si felt she had been replaced and promptly died. Young Jones on the other hand had a great and uneventful trip except for that minor thing with the brakes going out. You don’t really need brakes on the beltway around DC anyway.