An Old Swinger

Finally the hazy, hot, dog days of summer have arrived and I couldn't be more delighted. Creaky and achy as I am on most mornings, once the coffee and Nicorette kick in I'm raring to go. My spandex is washed and waiting, my hat and gloves and funky glasses are in their perch and ready to be donned, and with my trusty wheels I ride off to my exhilaration... after my husband leaves for work. My hair flies free as the wind in my face as I race up and down familiar streets, with eyes hungry for new sights, ears listening for new sounds... the art of the sport. Suddenly as I race over the bridge I spy that old friend that I have neglected for decades. I almost passed him without a thought and then something told me to stop, experience, and just go with the flow. With a wild abandon I park my vehicle, and shyly look around to see that no one is looking and then I hop right into his lap. Before I can rethink what I am doing I am held in the tight familiar grip with my legs pointing towards the sky as my old rhythm returns. Wildly pumping and panting I am free again... holding on for dear life as I push forward and pull back. I'm a swinger again amidst the empty park... sun on my face, cedar mulch under my feet and the lazy clouds floating by. Sixty good solid pumps ( I counted them) was all I needed to feel young, vibrant, and alive again. I thought about doing my old swinger dismount... but that would be taking things a bit too far. What a simple thrill it was!