Three old men

I am licensed to drive again. This renewal authorizes me to steer a vehicle down the road until I celebrate my 95th birthday.

No exam was required other than a vision check.

I wonder, however, whether I’ll be permitted to extend another seven years when April 18, 2025 rolls around?

By then the self-driving car will be perfected, and I can drive safely — if I can remember my destination.

I began driving a car when I turned 12, which was permitted because my parents were too busy on the farm to pick up feed for the livestock during harvest season, and no one traveled our road to town on week days.

Fortunately, I have an unblemished driving record:

√  No DUIs because I don’t drink.

√  No speeding tickets because my car won’t travel that fast.

√  No accidents because my car already looks like a wreck.

As I began writing this essay, I remembered the story about three elderly guys who meet each morning for coffee and conversation at a local eatery. One of them was late on a stormy day in January.

As the missing man shuffles toward the table pushing a walker he explains, “I lost my hearing aid, and I almost missed getting here because I couldn’t find my glasses.

“I may not be able to hear or see, but, thank God, I can still drive a car.”

So, fair warming. I expect to be “on the road again” for at least seven years.