In 1987, at the ancient age of 39, when I was still married and had two little kids, I thought, as I shopped for a new bike, that I was buying my last one because certainly I would be too old to ride anymore by the time I was, say 50. It was one of those newly invented mountain bikes. Here's my farewell drawing of her from my sketchbook:
Now at 58 I'm again shopping for a new bike…and again thinking this one will be my last. It's weird to think something will be my last…but it's been true before…my last baby for example, who's now 25.
Approaching my birthday always makes me think about my life and how much I enjoy it, especially when I'm painting or drawing, and how important it is to enjoy every single day since there's only so many I have left (how many? glad I don't know).