[Previous entry: "My Teeth Are Killing Me"] [Next entry: "The Mediterranean"]
04/16/2007: "A “Mid”-Life Crisis"
Over the last half-year or so I have been thinking about trading in the station wagon for a convertible. You know, the kind of car you buy when you hit your 50’s, have a second or third car, and the kids are old enough to drive themselves around. Maybe it is a reaction to the panic that I may not make it to my 50’s. I feel like I never got to own that nice little sports car that brings back your youth. Like I am getting cheated out of my mid-life crisis.
In my 20’s, I owned a 1965 VW Karmann Ghia convertible. That was a fun car. I could load up three other people, drop the top and bomb around. Great memories. Maybe that is it. I am trying to recapture my youth? Those ole’ glory days.
Why is it that women never seem to understand a man’s mid-life crisis? Don’t they experience the same desire? Its really pretty simple (men aren't that complicated). At one time we were at the top of our game physically and emotionally. We had the three V’s: vitality, virility, and virtually unstoppable. Whatever we were into, we were good at, with a strong self-esteem. And then we became responsible, settled down, had children, got a 9-5, bought a house, etc. I know it is the social norm, but I think that move is a huge change and adjustment for a man. I am not sure how well the male of the human species is programmed for it.
So about 25 to 30 years later, we start to see a taste of that independence we once knew. The kids are growing up and don’t need or care so much for our time. The job is getting more comfortable and we even have a timeline for retirement. We have finally learned that the wife will be as she is, regardless of our actions. Financially we are doing pretty well – certainly compared to those 20 something years. However, physically our bodies have slipped. The pants are close to the same waist size, we just wear them lower so the belly can ride over the top. The hair needs a little more attention to work around the gray or the thinning and our kids can now beat us in the quarter mile.
So it’s simple, we need a new car. Not a responsible one that fits the family or carries the various loads for the house. One just for ourselves that will give us the macho reward of hitting the gas and revving through the gears. Maybe it will even turn a few heads that have long ceased to give us a second glance. Now – what to buy…
You could start your own mid-life crisis gang. 
