You know you’ve aged when your first job at an auto dealership was in the service department and 10 years later you find yourself back in the body shop. The symbolism is frankly starting to bother me.

I mostly typed the letter keys at The Evening Sun between those two jobs, and when asked to punch in collision-insurance details on an Excel spreadsheet at Benedict’s, I had actually forgotten about the number keys on the far right. Lucky for me, the Bondo and paint fumes remain on the other side of my office door because I refuse to wear a mask and can’t afford to lose any more memory.

I was able to maintain this 1959 model fairly well over the past decade, but I didn’t quite get to the gym for a tune up as often as I had planned. I took to killing two birds with one stone and began daily hikes or snowshoeing treks up the hill across the road while walking the dog. Now I also lift weights fairly regularly, haul water to the horses and see the chiropractor two times a year. Vitamin, mineral and hormonal supplements have become part of my regular intake and I’ve substituted water for liquor, almond drink for milk and red potatoes for white.