Geezy Rider

By Joe Berk

I like that title.  Geezy Rider.  It kind of says it all.  A close runner up was “You might be a geezer if…”

We haven’t blogged a listicle in a while and I thought it was time.   Sue and I like to entertain and we had three couples over for dinner recently.  Everyone was our age (which is a nice way of saying we are all geezers), we all came from similar backgrounds, we all have grandkids, and we all travel.  Those commonalities notwithstanding, the conversation centered on the same topic it always seems to center on these days when I’m with my geezer buddies:  Getting old.   Some of you might be thinking that you don’t want to read about old people, but you might already be one.  So how do you know?   Well, here we go.  You might be a geezer if:

You get senior discounts without asking.  When you do ask for the senior discount, no one asks to see your ID.  You sometimes find yourself thinking that 55 is too young to be considered a senior citizen.

A good night’s sleep is based on how many times you had to get up to take a leak, you wonder how in the world taking a leak on the side of the road ever became a sex crime, or you plan rides at least partly based on restroom locations.

You know more doctors than motorcycle dealers, and you have a different doctor for each organ in your body.  Sometimes you realize you can’t make a planned ride because you have a doctor’s appointment that day.

You look at other people at a motorcycle event and think they’re really old, and then you realize you’re the same age as they are.

You’re on a first name basis with the Costco people who give out free samples.

You can identify pills without seeing the bottle, a day on the bike is routinely preceded by a couple of Ibuprofens, and you have a pill container organized by day.  Forget penicillin; you know that Sildenafil and Tamsulosin are the true wonder drugs.

You no longer use a tail pack or have a sissy bar because it’s easier to get on and off your motorcycle.  You may have pondered where to attach a cane on your motorcycle.

You buy motorcycle clothes a couple of sizes larger because the damn manufacturers are making them smaller these days.  You buy riding gear with pockets big enough to hold baby wipes.  You substituted food for sex years ago and now you’re so fat you can’t get into your own pants.

You stopped worrying about helmet hair decades ago and when you get a haircut you find yourself thinking about the cost in terms of dollars per hair.  You haven’t carried a comb in decades.

You watch news shows based mostly on which ones you don’t shout at.

A motorcycle’s weight is more important to you than 0-to-60 or quarter-mile times.  You and your buddies talk about cholesterol, A1C, PSA levels, and medications instead of motorcycle performance specs.

When it’s time to change your oil, you think about where it’s going to hurt the next day because you have to get down on the floor to reach the drain plug.  Ibuprofen is a normal part of your oil change equipment.

You don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with a motorcycle in a handicap parking spot.

You don’t like to ride after dark and going to bed by 9:00 p.m. seems like a perfectly normal thing to do.

Easy Riders or The Great Escape is on TV, and you don’t even need to think about it.  You’re going to watch it again.

A new movie stars Clint Eastwood, you know you’re going to see it, and you don’t need to know what it is about to make that decision.

So there you have it:  My take on how to assess if you are a geezer.

Now get off my lawn.

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