Well, the Grandfathers Club recklessly endangered several young lives last night.

We took the grandkids for a ride in the bed of an open pickup through farm country.

No injuries, no deaths, no arrests. Everyone was kept way up after bed time. A good time was had by all.

We have been doing this for five years now and the kids have grown up. What's interesting is they have not lost interest. They said they look forward to it even more which is a little different for teenagers.

The oldest boy is now a 'soldier' in the club as he has a driver's license and is now the designated driver for the after-action 'mission whiskey' we grandfathers share afterwards.

The kid, the oldest of the lot, is coming along well. 

He asked me if I would teach him to drive a manual and I spent a couple hours with him this afternoon and he seems to be getting the hang of it.

Last night he was funny. George said that when he dropped the grandkids off the kid stayed in the car. His mother asked him where he was going and he replied, "Someone's got to drive those old goats home after they get snockered."

To tell you the truth, we were all glad the kid was with us because we didn't have to really watch ourselves with the drink.

While none of us really drank a whole lot, we were actually more relaxed simply because we knew we didn't have to feel like we had to watch ourselves. 

Another interesting thing came up, too.The kid was talking about stuff he wouldn't talk with his dad about.

With the kid around we didn't pull any punches and we discovered that kids that age belong with guys our age because we have something in common.

We're not caught up in the zoo of middle age.

I am beginning to think that kids under 20 ought to hang with guys over 60 and learn something that they can drag into middle age with them and that's not to sweat the small stuff.

His father is likely to tell him not to do this, that and the other.

We'll likely tell him to go ahead. Then we'll teach him how to get away with it.

In all seriousness we passed on a few things on decency, manhood and character to him.  Pete was funny about it. He did an imitation of a guy in his 40s reprimanding the kid. For a second the kid cringed until he realized Pete was doing a middle-aged man imitation. We all busted up.

The incident made me realize that the family as we know it is seriously falling apart. Years ago grandparents generally coached their sons from behind the scenes. They'd sneak off with their sons and do a little coaching.

("Give that boy a break, Son. He didn't do anything wrong. Two lousy beers! Big deal! While we're at it you might remember that you owe your very life to a batch of vodka and cranberry I shared with your mother one night. That was the night I knocked her up in the back seat of a '48 Ford! Now lay off the kid. He's doing just fine.")

Technology is a very good thing, too. I turned the TV on and the 
Three Stooges 'just happened' to be on. (Thank you, DVD) Nature ran its course and inside of seconds Pete D'Angelo, acting as Moe decided to take on the kid. The kid, playing Curly won in a landslide.

Not only did he block every attempt Pete made to poke him in the eyes, the skinny 125 pound kid stuck out his 'belly' and knocked Pete back into the Lazy Boy. Not bad. Just shows to go you that as i have said before the Three Stooges transcends generations as far as men go.

One other thing came up.

Last St. Patty's day the kid asked me for suggestions for his prom date. 

Being the smug bastard I am, I told him to take the girl with the biggest tits. 

He didn't.

When I asked him why, he told us that the girl with the biggest rack happened be Pizza Face Miklowski and her butt was two axe-handles wide.

Good point. Sometime you have to be flexible.

Smart kid, really. I gave him some advice and he decided not to take it. He made his own decision and seems to be glad he did. I respect him for that.



To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY