The Big Deal About 40...

The big four zero.

Wow.

I really didn't think I'd make it here. As a matter of fact there have been countless times in my life when it should have ended right there, but, for some act of providence, it didn't. Someone said that God watches over drunks and fools, and I have been both, so maybe I was doubly protected.

Usually by 40, most people have their shit together. I've had my shit together several times only to have it brought down crumbling around my ears. I suppose that's His way of saying I was getting too cocky. He was right. Every time I had it going good, I became a douche-bag. I can't count the number of times I have had a woman call me arrogant during these times of plenty. It feels good to know you can get there, and success is an aphrodisiac to some women. In my case it was all of the wrong women, combined with an arrogant douche-bag manner.

I've moved all the way to the eastern seaboard, thousands of miles away from everything I have ever known. Do I miss the old life? Not really. Just the food. I don't miss the constant high blood pressure. I don't miss the smog. I don't miss the ghetto-birds circling the city twenty-four hours a day.

Speaking of the food, the only thing I really miss is good Mexican food, but I found the cure for that. There is a Latino community out here of primarily Mexican immigrants, with it's share of carnicerias (butcher shops), and most of these places have kitchens int he back, where if you walk in with a smattering of spanish you picked up from ordering from Roach Coaches in Los Angeles, you can come out with a damned filling meal for a low price.

One of the memorable things about my 40th birthday was when the brakes on the van failed. A brake line had burst, spraying all of the fluid out onto the rear axle, creating thick white smoke. After testing out what I had left, which was a very weak emergency brake, we decided to sy to hell with it and continue our drive to where we were going, which was a 40 minute drive into Indiana, and up a steep winding hill. We cavalierly laughed about the predicament, me proclaiming that I, "The Man With No Brakes" was going to die today. As you can see, i didn't die, but that incident created a mood of carelessness that I will always treasure. Beverly and I truly lived for those few hours. Coming back down that steep hill with no brakes and not dying was well appreciated.