Much like an old car, our bodies were not meant to last as long as people seem to want them to. Our parts start to break down and require costly repairs.
We old models spend most of our days and all of our nights in the garage we call home, hoping that we’re not called upon for another creaky trip we could happily do without.
Nature is trying to tell us that our warranties have expired and it’s time to move over to give the newer models more room on the overcrowded highways of life.
We dodder along in the slow lane of life, and when we pass a graveyard of cars, we can visualize ourselves on the top of the heap, with a clear view of where we are going next.
So please, all you folks who want to repair us and make us last because of your wishes, please allow us the dignity of our last and sensible trip.
Bob Clarke
Saanich
