I bought a car last year, a nice one that I’ve wanted for a long time. My kids say they are worried that I’ll wreck it and get hurt, but I know them better than that…they want my cute little car for themselves. It is filled with electronic gadgets and whirligigs, most of which I don’t use because I can’t figure out how to turn them on or off, so to use them, I have to call a grandchild for instruction.
To allay their fears, I decided to take a driving course for geriatric car owners to relearn all the info that my driver’s ed teacher, Mr. Broich, had taught me over a half century ago. A friend had taken the same class a few weeks earlier and said it was worth the $15, especially since one of the men in the class hit on her and she got a free meal at the Stagecoach. The same thing had happened to another woman I know, so I thought what the heck? I’m not so hot about getting hit on, but a free meal is a free meal.
Eight members of the gray-headed brigade took the class with me, making nine of us. Four men and four women, plus me. They had entered the classroom one at a time and didn’t appear to know each other. I arrived in my daily uniform of jeans, sweatshirt, and sandals, but the other women were dressed up with makeup and looked like they were stepping out. Three men had on nice pants and sweaters and the fourth wore a suit and tie. Did they know something I didn’t?
Lunch time came, and I headed to my car to snag my sack lunch of PB&J and an apple. The others headed in the opposite direction toward the fast food eateries and coupled up, boy, girl, boy, girl, etc. Like Junior High. I took the entire hour to finish my lunch, the eight reappeared together, two pairs holding hands, the other four also apparently coupled.
It got me to wondering what hot dating sites exist for senior citizens, so I googled seniors meeting seniors, and I learned that ballroom dancing classes rank number one. Driving classes didn’t make the top one hundred, but they should.
