NORTH OF FORTY
Why Mature Men Don't Ask for Directions When We're Lost
Okay it all comes down to pride. We're out there driving around in our own vehicle, burning gas, wearing sunglasses, looking good. People who see us driving by would never guess that we have no idea where we are. And we don't want to tell them. Men don't enjoy the concept of going up to total strangers and saying "You may not know this but I'm a moron." In contrast the woman we're traveling with is often very anxious to share this knowledge with the world. It somehow eases her burden. To women, getting lost on a trip is a blameless act of nature - to men it's a personal failure. He knew where he was when he left home - he doesn't know where he is now. Somewhere along the line he crossed the line from the world he knows into the world he doesn't know. To a man this is how he felt when he got married or had kids. If he admits he's lost in the car, he'll have to admit that he's lost everywhere and that's way too much to ask. So just bite your tongue and circle the block a few more times. Men aren't lost, they just go the long way.
The Day the Music Died
Have you tried to find a good radio station lately, one that plays good driving music? There aren't any. It's all yakkity yak--with news, or talk shows or rap music. You start to wonder, where did our music go? What happened to the great music that defined our generation? Well, I'll tell you where it went. And it's good news, for a change. Our music is in the clearance bin down at the hardware store. You can pick up five...maybe six tapes for the cost of one of them CD things. And it's our music. With words you can hear and understand. Words that tell a story without a video. And the women sing songs about men. And the men sing songs about women. And surfing. And hot rods. I know it's depressing to see the music of your life stacked beside the special discount shampoo and the two-for-one light bulb sale, but that's okay, because it's finally at a price you can afford.
The Seven Stages of Parking
Stage One - You're a kid. All you have to park is your butt.
Stage Two - You're a teenager and you park with a girl who has a good chance of being your future wife.
Stage Three - You're married with kids and are parking a mini-van at McDonald's.
Stage Four - The kids are grown and working at McDonald's, you've got a sports car and are caught parking with a girl who has no chance of being your future wife.
Stage Five - You're parking in the garage for a while, where you're also living.
Stage Six - You're old, no car no license no parking spot.
Stage Seven - You're parked. Permanently. In your own space. Even has your name over it.
We Have Nothing to Say
Every week more and more guys are "coming out" of the tool room and admitting it. Admitting we have nothing to say, to anyone, about anything. I know that feeling. And your wife probably understands. You've said it all before. You're still with her. You have nothing to add. And this is all right. Unfortunately some guys who have nothing to say still keep talking. Like, if you find yourself ranting about the way people are parking cars on your street, well, you have nothing to say. Stop talking. If you find yourself going on and on about why Jeopardy is way better than Wheel of Fortune, or about how hard it is to open those new orange juice containers, or the high price of hammers, you have nothing to say. If you notice you're telling everyone a hilarious story that you read in Reader's Digest--stop talking. People aren't listening to you. The person you're talking to has glazed over and is just nodding their head, while they make up a grocery list or plan their winter vacation, or vow never to get as old and boring as you. So don't just keep talking until you think of something worth saying. You may not.
Quote of the Day
"If it ain't broke, don't lend it."
- Red Green
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