I’m turning fifty. FIF-TEE. FITTY. 5-O.
Of course there should be a big party. My twin and I have not had a party together since we were 12. Oh I remember, an all green outfit and the matching gold Schwinn bicycles. Yep, grass green corduroy pants and a matching grass green t-shirt with a white piping on the collar – like nothing that has ever been stylish – then or now.
And the bikes – full size adult bikes so we could grow in to them, were metallic gold in color. My twin and I have literal scars to show for our mastery of those bikes that were the wheels to our freedom around the mobile home park my parents owned at the time. My brother’s had the cool bar that went straight across to indicate it was a “boy’s” bike. Mine, no bar, it was a “girl’s” bike. The seats were so tall we have to use the tips of our shoes to pedal, to balance, to start.
My twin was a pretty scrawny 12 so I can picture it clear as a photograph. The pedals set exactly so with the right one in the up position. His right leg thrown over the bar to his knee and then bouncing on the tip toe of his left foot as he tried to get momentum, he would shift his weight over and put his foot on the right pedal long enough to be standing on the pedals to ride. That’s the thing, he had to stand to ride that bike for a while. That boy’s bike nearly ruined his budding man-ness a few times, but boy did we do a lot of mileage on those two gold bikes.
Fast forward many years…we’re turning fitty. The old dude refused to do a jumping castle birthday with me. I guess he’s too afraid to get hurt…go figure.
So, bocce it is. Reserved for the ancient and ailing, but surrounded by those we love, beer and great food. Happy 50th Birthday ol boy! You know I love you like a twin!