As a young kid with a brand new drivers license, the exhilaration of driving a beat-up ’51 Plymouth station wagon with “3-on-the- tree” was, to me, like being behind the wheel of a Lamborghini.  Oh, the places I would go … as long as I was home by dark, of course, because the old jalopy, among its many other ailments, did not have working headlights.

Now that I am in my 80’s, driving remains among my most enjoyable activities … especially when my lovely bride, Bonnie, is performing her navigator duties from the passenger seat.  And while that 16-year-old kid rattling around our little village in upstate New York could only imagine exploring places unknown, we are actually able to do that … and, oh my goodness, we do!

Though we reside in a city whose population just passed one million, we are located on its western fringe.  This gives us convenient access to the vast rural areas that bring us such enjoyment.  Avoiding Interstate highways we, instead, traverse state, county and “Ranch to Market” roads that introduce us to locales and scenery we would otherwise miss.

It doesn’t matter, by the way, that we may have driven a particular route previously, the change of seasons always presents us with a different version of what we saw the last time we passed.  The Bluebonnets … the Indian Paint Brush … the Cactus Flowers.  In one neighborhood, there is a herd of deer that seems almost domesticated as they stand by the roadside and watch us pass.

To the best of my recollection, that ’51 Plymouth mentioned above had a scratchy AM radio glued to WABC (Cousin Brucie!).  Our current ride is much more comfortable, and the Sirius radio allows us to alternate between soft rock, 60’s Gold and Country.  But regardless of the background music and even the scenery, after 60 years of marriage, it doesn’t get much better … talking … holding hands … and just looking at the world around us.