My wife Brenda and best friend Pearl started walking in their middle years to try to control their weight gain, which was a side effect of aging in most women.
They felt great about their nightly walks so it was logically a matter of time until they forced their dopey husbands Bob and me to gain the benefits of walking around the block and hopefully living longer…yeah right!
If the truth be told they hated us vegging out and wasting away on the chair, the couch or the lounge while they went on tortuous hikes.
Why are wives so blatantly sadistic?
Anyway, years ago I started to notice herds of seniors walking all over Hespeler’s hallowed streets.
I wondered what benefits those grizzled goats got out of it; don’t they know they’re old?
At that time my lovely wife would try to cajole me into walking for the exercise value and the serenity and senility than ensues while moving ones legs a lot.
I’d tell her that the only way I’d accompany her was if she’d attach wheels to our couch, and push me around town.
Times change, my knees aren’t good, I truly say, I’m becoming chubby in an erotic way, my shoulder’s shot but private parts not, my gut is sagging, my pants are bagging, the arse is dragging, my kids are gagging and the wife is nagging….so now I walk.
I walk with my frequent playmate Bob Evans (not Bob Evans who invented the sausage, the Bob who eats the sausage).
Last week walking with Bob, I told him I was sick of being stupid, sick of not catching onto things right away, like normal people.
“Ah Jim don’t worry about being stupid, you’ll adapt, after all I’ve been stupid from the womb” chimes Bob.
Just then turning onto Winston, two older yet familiar babes pass us, we nod….Bob asks if we should “kick it into turbo, assert our masculine superiority and re-pass?” I decline. As they waddle ahead I noticed they were getting a little less wide in the beam.
“Wow, fun Bobby…their asses sure are shrinking. Maybe there’s something to this walking gig!”
Bob agrees, “Jim, I think they’ve downsized from Battleships to mere Tugboats and yes, there is something to this exercise bit.”
After a pregnant pause with both spit, sputter and roar at the mere chance that this walking business could benefit us….high fives ensue…we fail to connect and I careen off the sidewalk and onto Winston as a young driver of a Honda Civic shouts out “walk much ol’ man?”..middle fingers are lovingly exchanged.
We next turn down Jamieson and start on our last leg home….my right leg, Bob’s left, to be exact.
Across the 401 we notice a sign with a phone number that says “NOW HIRING”. Since we both need work, we crane our necks, narrow our eyes to dead-eye accuracy, but can’t make out the first two digits.
Bob, drooling in concentration says “it starts with a 65”– but I caution him “it can’t ‘cause south of 401 is ugly old Galt, so it must be 621 or 623.”
“It might be 621, Bob says,” squinting at the sign, “Jim it could be almost anything, now you’re spiritual and are connected to the Higher Power since I’m an atheist, what does your virtuous soul tell you?”
“Bob, I’m getting bupkus from inner Jimmy; maybe the Big Guy wants us to stagnate a while longer, it’s His will…the job thing’s not meant to be, sadly it’s our fate.”
As we continue to ogle the sign, a buxom lady in an SUV stops to ask if we’re ok. Apparently we looked a little, confused and possibly disoriented.
“Bob, did you see the way she looked at me? I think she liked me!”
“Jim, zip up your fly, tuck the rest of your shirt in, and for the love of God, stop wearing the peak of your baseball cap off to the side, it makes you look stupid not cool. Do you want everyone to think we’re old?”