My husband and I recently went to a reception for a charity we support. Arriving separately, I waited patiently in the August heat for my husband to park and catch up with me. (Actually, “patient” is not what I felt.)
It didn’t take long to notice a brand-spanking-new-shiny-fire-engine-red-Camaro moving slowly up the street. You couldn’t not notice this car – shiny, dealer tags still visible, plenty of horse power in that engine, and it was red (my favorite color). It careened smoothly parking right in front of the place we were entering. I thought to myself, “I wonder who’s driving that car?”
As we walked up the steps to the front door, I looked back to say something to my husband and caught a glimpse of the driver. “Oh my gosh, you won’t believe who’s driving that brand-spanking-new-shiny-fire-engine-red-Camaro! We know him from church!” We both did a double-take.
Yes, we were startled at first, but not shocked. This guy parachutes, is a world-renowned marathon runner, pilot, you name it. He also happens to be 95 years old.
Sitting next to him during the reception, I told him what a sweet ride he drove up in, to which he replied, “Yeah, I always wanted a sports car, so I picked it out a few days ago. When I turned 60 I decided I wanted to live until I die. I’ve tried to do that every day since then.”
Pretty good advice, I’d say.
