Have now been retired for a number of years and have started to notice how quickly the weeks and months fly past. The “ What, it’s your birthday again – wasn’t that just a couple of months ago?” excuse has worn a bit thin. You usually know the day, month and year, but don’t know the date, and don’t really care. You are so computer illiterate that the kids have selected and organised your email address – (thanks kids – “Grumpyoldbstrd” is very apt). The biggest concerns in your life are whether there’s enough gas in the BBQ bottle, and if the booze fridge is stocked up. You couldn’t be bothered going for a ride because you’ve been there a hundred times before. It gets harder and harder to walk out your front door, and you spend too much time on the ADV Rider site. The body starts breaking down, the teeth start falling out, you get cataracts and macular degeneration (that’s a bit of fun when trying to judge distances). Getting on and off the bike is harder. Crawling out of the tent in the morning and getting to my feet is now a source of amusement to my young friends. And let’s not talk about the bladder wake up calls in the middle of the night. My favourite Stephen Fry quote – “I don’t need you to remind me how old I am – I’ve got a bladder to do that for me.” Romping around on the floor with grandkids is a fond memory. Speaking of fond memories, whatever happened to the “Morning Glory” I used to wake up with every morning? Or when sitting on the bike for hours, the knees lock up and you can’t put the feet on the ground when you need to stop. How about when sitting around the camp fire and getting in and out of your Helinox, you almost fall face first in the fire? You have to plan ahead and bring the Bundy bottle with you before you sit down. And what about cutting those bastard toenails when your ankles, knees and hips don’t work so well, and you’ve still got to bend over that ever increasing gut? Also, most of your old riding mates are either dead, maimed, incapacitated, or senile – (oh shit, could be guilty of this myself). Sorry, just venting. The old bones are giving me grief – Winter must be on the way.