North Star Writers Group

I’ve noticed something rather peculiar since joining the ranks of the semi-retired. I’ve noticed I’m not in a hurry to get where I’m going any more. Time was, and not that long ago, when I’d jump out of bed at the crack of dawn, throw on my clothes and leap into the car. I’d take a cup of coffee from the house, but I rarely got a chance to drink it because I’d spill most of it on my lap as I sped 24 miles from my home in the suburbs to the big city to begin another eight hours as a newspaper reporter.

Now, a couple of months into the wonderful world of semi-retirement, I do just the opposite. I still rise early - old habits are hard as heck to break - but that’s where it all ends.

I used to drive fast. Now I dawdle. Speed limits mean nothing to me any more. If the sign says 65 I’m usually doing 40, maybe 45 tops.

As I dawdle along, I also gawk. I eyeball everything from stores and houses to ponds and parks.

Until I retired, I never paid much attention to things like barns, tavern signs, bumper stickers and vanity license plates. Now I’m captivated by them.

The best bumper sticker I’ve seen since I started taking life a lot easier carried the message “LIFE JUST HASN’T BEEN THE SAME SINCE THAT HOUSE FELL ON MY SISTER.” I haven’t the foggiest idea what it means, but I love it.

My favorite vanity plate to date proclaimed “UGLI GAL.”

As for roadside signs, some totally confuse me. One of those confusing roadside messages can be found alongside every highway in America, I’ll bet. It proclaims “LOTS FOR SALE.” What it doesn’t tell you is lots of what?

Another thing I’ve noticed as I lolligag along is that everybody seems to be in a hurry these days. I’ve tried to figure out where they are headed in such an all-fired big rush, but I can’t do it. What really shocks me, though, is how supportive other motorists are of my slower pace when I’m behind the wheel. I figured they’d be really ticked off at me, but that hasn’t been the case. Just yesterday, as I motored along at 35 miles an hour in the fast lane of one of our local freeways, five other drivers who passed me actually expressed their support of my slower ways. All five flashed me a sign to tell me I’m “No. 1.”

People are so darned nice.

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