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While backing my sometime-later-to-be-paid-for truck up a hill today, I realized once again how much I enjoy backing up. Not just remembering, mind you, or mind me, but the sheer joy of doing a good job backing up your vehicle, be it your car, your truck, your rig, your boat, your trailer or your riding mower.
Before we get started, although it certainly seems as if we have, let me thank you who have had the bold courtesy to say that you were glad I am back writing weekly non-necessities for the non-masses.
Greetings from our Hoosier home front.
Despite my good intentions to share some significant historical observations from last week’s tour of the Studebaker Museum in South Bend, Ind., I must hold the press on this to discuss the recent reminders experienced first hand of sharing a bathroom with three women.
Last Saturday night, upon returning from a day of fun in the Coupeville sun, I realized again how difficult it is to wind down when one is wound up.
As I age, somewhere to the left of graciously, I find it amusing that I have, in recent years, begun to sacrifice style for function. Maybe after developing one’s own style, it is less necessary to borrow the alleged style of others. Last Wednesday, after successfully solo laundromating in that city north of us that none of us want to be seen in, I journeyed by Big 5 to say “hello” to Diane. A few months back, when I last made an emergency run to Wally World for mindless gifts, I purchased my first ever pair of Dr. Scholl’s shoes from her. Either my feet are swelling as I age or my fourth-grade socks no longer fit.
Jim Freeman says thanks again for showing up.