Middle age crazy

 

Jerry Lee Lewis sang about a man who had become, “middle age crazy.”
In the song, a man feels his age and attempts to recapture his youth
by trading his Oldsmobile for a “new Porsche car.” At the time the
essence of the song was that a mid-life crisis occurred at about 40
years of age, however that was almost forty years ago. I believe 46
is the new 40 as the new standard for middle-age craziness.

First off, I didn’t trade my truck at life’s mid-point and owning a
sports car in the land of wash board gravel roads and snow would be
like sporting a snowmobile in Jamaica. My history is one old pick-ups, older tractors
and using my own resourcefulness to accomplish any task in life.
I save money by using old equipment that relies heavily on my
acceptance, patience and ability to either fix it or pay to have it
repaired. I’ve seen myself as a spendthrift. The truth is, by the
time I buy equipment and then fix it to the point it actually works,
I’ve spent close to the point of buying what I really wanted in the
first place.

Maybe my middle-age crazy wasn’t so much a desperate grab for my lost
youth as an epiphany; an epiphany that I was wasting my time on junk.
Perhaps I should just accept the responsibility and cost of what I
needed to be productive and then buy it. After which I could trust in my own ability to make these

purchases pay off.

I bought a new snow plow-not just any plow either. I didn’t buy an
old plow, I didn’t buy an old truck with a plow then swap the plow
onto mine then sell the other one to pay for the whole mess (which
I’ve done.) I didn’t even purchase something cheap to just “get by.”
I bought a fire engine red, cow-catcher shaped, brand-new,
smart-coated, snowdrift-defeating Boss v-plow. Logic was thrown out
the window as this purchase occurred at the tail end of winter and
there was little or no snow upon which to draw blood for my new
sword.

It is said that if you feel there is no purpose in your work then you
should buy something expensive for which you have to pay. I guess
pride and purpose must walk a parallel path. I do like the way the plow looks

on my truck; I had the pair staged perfectly so they where the first thing Lisa

saw when she arrived home that day. I’d already felt my work was purposeful but now it will be
easier to arrive at work when we have bad roads. It is the first
piece of equipment I’ve ever owned that I would take to a parade. I
guess pride will be the next deadly sin I focus on prior to turning
47.

Perhaps I never became crazed from middle age; perhaps I got
practical-and more responsible. My age has made me focused
enough to know when I truly need something rather than just want it.
I also decided somewhere along the line to be responsible for my bold
actions, rather than to be safe and unsatisfied with the outcome.
A new Porsche car in the garage might say youth lives in its owners heart, however a well-plowed driveway says a good man lives on the farm.

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