I Sometimes Have A Hard Time Holding Back The Codger
At work I was recently asked, in front of a bunch of people, about my first car. Everybody was younger, of course; I’m almost always the oldest person in every room now. So, I didn’t really want to get into it. Not that I give too big of a shit, mind you, but I am aware enough to guard against advertising my advanced age. There’s no need to advertise it.
But they wouldn’t let it drop, so I told them: a 1971 Nova. And you could see the looks of astonishment on their faces. 1971?! Was that when Lincoln was president? Is that when they used to say, “23 skidoo?” I did remind them that the vehicle was thoroughly used by the time it got to me, but that didn’t seem to make much of a difference. This guy could be my broken-down old grandfather, they were all thinking. Accurately.
Like I say, I try not to be the standard codger with nothing but dated and confusing references. While, at the same time, not attempting to act like a 23-year-old, which would be even more embarrassing. But I do like to tell stories, and participate in conversations, which sometimes leads to additional looks of astonishment. I don’t want to advertise it, necessarily, but don’t always do a good job of holding back the codger, either.
Yesterday I jotted down some things I know I’ve said at work, probably more than once, that likely led to confusion and/or thoughts along the lines of “Sheesh! Just how old is this guy??” Or, more likely, something akin to “Whatever, Pops. Isn’t it time for your nap?” Here are a few:
“Oh, cry me a river. I used to make $3.35 per hour working at a grocery store, while being called “numb nuts” and “shit-for-brains” by alcoholic managers every day. I’d work 40 hours per week and clear $104.”
“When I was in high school the drinking age was 18. When I was 19, I think, they changed it to 21, but we were grandfathered in.”
“Oh, calm down. You’re going to soil your Underoos.”
“Does anyone want anything from Burger Chef? …Wait! I meant Burger King.”
“Four hundred dollars for concert tickets? Shit, I saw Queen in 1980 for $8.50.”
“I wish they still made Dentyne Dynamints.”
“I was at Game 2 of the 1976 World Series. It was the first Sunday night game in World Series history, and it was incredibly cold.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard since New Coke.”
“When I was in school some of the teachers had wooden paddles and they’d hit you with them. I got it a few times myself, ‘cause I was a sarcastic little prick. One time, during Jr. High, the gym coach gathered the whole class around to watch me get my ass beat with a paddle that had holes drilled in it, to decrease the amount of drag, I guess.”
“I remember when HBO used to come on at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.”
“My grandparents had a party line, where several households shared the same phone line. So, you could pick up the receiver and one of the neighbors might already be on there talking.”
“I remember when they were called Pringles NEWFANGLED potato chips.”
“When I was a kid, I met Mickey Mantle and Satchel Paige.”
“My first computer cost $2500, and it had a 1.2 gigabyte hard drive. My first internet service provider was MindSpring. Lycos was my favorite search engine, and I got all my news from Nando Net!”
“How the hell would I know that? What am I, Kreskin?”
“You’re still here? You’re usually out like Fred Flintstone sliding down the dinosaur tail.”
“When we first got cable TV there was a channel that was just a camera pointed at a clock.”
Do you do this? Do you replay conversations in your head and criticize yourself retroactively? Oh, I have a black belt in that stuff. Not always having to do with age, mind you, but there always seems to be something that earns me an internal reprimand. And I’m admittedly somewhat conscious about the age thing. I’m not neurotic about it, but I do attempt to steer clear of full-codger territory. Clearly, I don’t always succeed.
If you have any thoughts on this subject, or other examples similar to what I posted above, feel free to share. And I’m going to go upstairs now and practice texting with my thumbs, like everybody besides the elderly does it.
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Until next month!
First car: 1964 Rambler American wagon...on the last of its legs when purchased for $150 1975 dollars.
Three on the tree. Vacuum operated windshield wipers that slowed down when you pressed the clutch. These were just a few of its charms.
2016...a couple years before I retired. Talking with a coworker in her early 30s. Smart woman: lawyer. We're reviewing some new correspondence for a shared project, and I hold a paper up to my foreghead and say something like "Carnac The Magnificent says...."
She looks at me like I've grown a third eye.
She didn't know who Carnac was.
As it turns out: she didn't know who Johnny Carson was.
Welcome to the olds.
My first car was also a 1971 Nova, a four door. Bought it from an old lady down the street that wrecked it, had it repaired and painted at Earl Scheib and then was scared to drive it. It has 26,000 miles on it, looked brand new and I drove it over 100,000 miles before I traded it in for $950 in 1982. I bought it for $800. She had it painted "electric blue". I never had problems finding it in parking lots. I use to say to my kids when they had a new favorite band, "That group is going to be around as long as Chuck Cunningham."