The iCar

         I saw that Apple made an iCar. That sounded awesome! They make cool stuff for young and clever people. Wouldn't an iCar keep me young and cool? I ran to the Apple dealership to get the first one, for bragging rights. Tyler the salesman (young and cool) showed videos of really awesome people driving snappy stainless steel cars. He gave me the virtual tour. Sign me up! Tyler the salesman worked up the deal on his phone gadget. Then he asked, "Would you like some Opps with it?"
          "Opps?"
          "Right. Options." I liked the price. "No, that's okay."
          "Suit yourself." He spoke into his nifty headset and told me the car would soon appear beyond the side door. I trotted to the door and steeled my resolve not to press my nose against the glass. Soon a forklift appeared with a car body on a pallet. The operator glanced around, then opened the door. "You Kevin Parsons?"
          "Yes sir."
          "I got your car."
          "What?" I ran and found the salesman. Explained the dilemma.
          "You just bought the operating system. The drive train. We added the steering wheel, doors and windows for free." Did the Apple guy just say it had windows? Amazing. But I wanted an entire car. Tyler agreed and we returned to the Opps Department. "Would you like wheels?" 
          Dur! "Yes."
          "Seats? Seat belts? Glove compartment? Door locks? Gauges?" Yesyesyesyesyesyes and yes. Finally, I had my car. I started it up. It took around five minutes to start, as it needed to load all the Opps. I drove to the road and signaled for a lef- wait a minute. No turn signal! I returned to the sales guy and we added turn signals. Oh, and would I like headlights and tail lights? Yes and yes.
          I started the car again. This time it took quite a bit longer. Drove away. The engine died. An error code appeared on the windshield: 'Defragification of parabolic parameters at torque delivery system necessary.' I called the salesman, who referred me to a forum of others suffering a similar malady. Three hours later I rolled again. Halfway home I drove through a cloudburst. No windshield wipers. I returned to the salesman and asked for another Opp. Wipers.
          "There's a really cool one. Two guys designed it in their garage. They swipe to the music from the radio. You got the radio Opp, right?" Four hours later I drove away and as the rain fell, I activated my radio Opp. Ozzy Osborne sang 'Crazy Train.' The wipers swept across the glass in a frenzied fashion. I hoped they wouldn't break. Soon James Taylor sang 'You've Got a Friend' and they almost stopped. I noticed the turn signals doing the same and they wouldn't stop. But being an expert now, I knew what to do. I pulled to the side of the road and shut off the car. Waited a minute. Started it again. The turn signals stopped and the wipers kept time to Celine Dion, 'I Drove All Night.' Awesome.

 

Kevin has written numerous books and anthologies and blogs twice a week on www.kevinbparsons.blogspot.com, posts on Author Culture (www.authorculture.blogspot.com) and is a contributing writer to Choices eMagazine.

Kevin has owned numerous businesses in the construction, motorcycle, and real estate industries, in Nevada, California, Washington, Oregon and Arizona. He currently enjoys life at 9,000 feet in Brian Head, Utah with his patient wife Sherri. His favorite tools are a sledgehammer and axe.

The Anti- Geezers

By Kevin B Parsons

My family fights geezing with kicks and fists. At age sixty-two, my sister raced her first triathlon last summer. She hikes though the Cascade Mountains like a gazelle. And brother Bill, sixty- seven, plays on basketball teams. He hates playing on forty and over teams because they walk the ball up the floor. And I race motorcycles. Fifty-nine. 

We come by it honestly. The other day my dad enjoyed a golf outing. Since he couldn't find a friend to accompany him, he just headed out and hooked up with three men. After eight holes he asked one of them if he might be holding them up. Dad wouldn't want to be a 'burden.' We always tease him about that.

"No, you're not holding us up at all."

"Oh, good."

The man put his club back in his bag. "By the way, how old are you?"

"Ninety- two."

"...Take all the time you want."

So, I come by it honestly. Old age, stay away! All my off road racing friends are ten years younger than me. Our church has a 'Young at Heart' group for members that are fifty and over. Not attending that, nuh uh. Rode my first Century bike ride last spring, a hundred miles of pedaling through the hills of California. And my sister's inspiration for triathlon came from yours truly. My poor wife must put up with the insanity. She's the yang to my yin. She's a quilter. 

But she crossed over, oh yes. April 29th of 2012, we launched together on a '50 States in 50 Weeks' motorcycle adventure, towing a pop top tent trailer. My friends didn't even flinch when they heard of my latest adventure. But Quilter Girl? Really?

Yep. And while she is the stereotypical piece-and-quilt lady, these days she's on the back of our Honda Gold Wing, riding through every and any type of weather imaginable. And living in a tent trailer. A friend calls it 'training for homelessness.'

Qualifier here: Cold, extreme hot, wind or (God forbid) snow and it's off to a motel for these travelers. We're adventurers, not masochists. 

But what a thrill, to visit every state in the union! 

And now, some FAQs:

What about Alaska and Hawaii?

I flew to Alaska and rented a bike. Quilter Girl stayed behind with her folks in Seattle. We'll both go to Hawaii and rent one there. The Big Island.

How long will the adventure take?

Seriously, people ask. Um... fifty weeks. Actually, it may take fifty five or more. We may hang in Florida for some time and let Old Man Winter move along. 

How many miles will you travel?

Around forty-five thousand- 200 a day, often less, and Sundays off. 

And the question no one asks: 

What will it cost?

$42,000, plus or minus. Plus the bike and trailer. 

But what a once in a lifetime adventure. 

And it keeps us young.

 

Brain Damaged- And Loving It

"Did you get the cheese?"

I opened the bag and stared inside. Shook my head and gave her the 'deer in the headlights' look.

"But you wrote a list." That's my wife, always using logic on me.

"I forgot to look at it." Then I pull out my Free Pass. "Brain damage, darlin'." Oh, yeah. I've had two concussions, both with amnesia, from riding dirt bikes. The first time I was with my kids and... well, I don't remember what happened until I stood there asking questions like, " Where are we?" and "What are we doing here?" while my computer rebooted. The kids thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

The second time... well, I don't remember either but my friends thought it was a hoot. Insensitive friends. Reminds me of a dirt biker's t-shirt: 'It's funny until someone gets hurt. Then it's hilarious.'

Since those events, I have a built in excuse. My wife overhears me having a conversation with my sister about the grandkids going to the zoo. "Why didn't you tell me?" Brain damage.

But it gives her comfort, because if I didn't have brain damage, I would be an idiot, and she married me. She's off the hook!

I recommend Brain Damage for every man. Not women. Men and women are different. Honest! We men blow things up, set ourselves on fire, and cut ourselves, no big deal. A woman splits a fingernail and the world is going to collapse in on itself. For instance, my dad has never pruned shrubs in his yard without shedding blood. He comes inside and it's: "Hey Dad you cut yourself."

He looks at his arm.

"No. The other one. The one dripping blood on the tile."

"Oh, wow," he says, "I better get a band aid."

"No, you better get stitches. And a blood transfusion."

What I recommend to you men is this: If you haven't had head trauma, find a helmet- football, baseball, motorcycle, doesn't matter. Put it on. Now put your head down and run, full tilt, into the opposite wall, smashing your head into it.* Excellent. Now, you've got a reason for your mistakes. You bought yogurt, but not low fat? Brain damage. Didn't gas the car up when that's the reason you took the car to the gas station? Hey, you're not responsible, just damaged goods. If your spouse is sensitive at all, she'll say, "Oh, honey, I forgot about your condition. I'll go get the yogurt and fuel up the car. Here's the remote. You watch television."

She leaves and you could watch television. But you better put on the tool belt and fix that hole in the wall. 

*Do not run with your head into a wall without first consulting your doctor. Results may vary. Should you attempt to run headfirst into a wall, you may experience the following side effects: Dizziness, temporary or permanent amnesia, unconsciousness, headache, neck, spinal and back injuries, bruising to the head, a vegetative condition, anger and frustration from your wife, or laughter from your children. If you experience any of these side effects, cease running with your head into the wall immediately and see your doctor. Running with your head into the wall should not be taken with alcohol or any other drug. 

Kevin B Parsons is an entrepreneur, author, motivational speaker and avid motorcyclist. He’s started and operated nine businesses in six states, and purchased one business.  He’s written a Children’s book, Ken Johnson and Roxi the Rocker, available on Amazon. He’s co authored six anthologies and written numerous articles and stories.

This year he appeared on the cover of American Motorcyclist magazine, along with the feature story he wrote.

Kevin has ridden and raced motorcycles since age thirteen, and is two time Best In The Desert champion. Currently he and his wife Sherri have embarked on a '50 States in 50 Weeks' adventure, riding a motorcycle with a pop- top tent trailer. He blogs every day during his adventure at www.50statesin50weeks.com.