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  • AfroDaddy

I'm Too Old for this Shiiiiiii-

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could do that?” “I can do that. That’s so easy. I could totally do that.” “Sure you can…”

This was the conversation that would ultimately lead to me lying in the car park, writhing in agony.

We arrived home to find our 14 year old neighbour rolling around the complex’s car park on his long board – and this is what my wife was saying would be a great thing to do.

She wished that she could know what it feels like to roll around on a board like that – and I was trying to explain to her that it was just about standing still. Not that hard at all.

Of course, I had to prove it by giving her an example of my prowess. I grabbed the board, got on, and pushed off. I stood up as I moved away from my family and…everything went exactly as expected.

I skated back to my (in my mind) extremely impressed wife and sons, and waited for the descriptions of my awesomeness.

“I have another board that shorter and more difficult to skate on if you want to try it”

My kid neighbour interrupted my moment of glory with a further challenge. I knew I should stop. I knew that I was barefoot, and unfit, and had never actually skateboarded before.

Dad with dummy
I'm definitely too old for this

But my sons were right there and this was an opportunity to seriously impress them. I wanted to keep the wide-mouthed awe on their faces going for as long as possible.

Now remember, I’m 32 years old. I pay taxes. I have long-term investments. I have mortgage. I sit in meetings and I eat salads and I sit in traffic and I have opinions on politics and I do a range of other very adulty things.

Despite all of that, I still desperately needed to impress this 14 year old, a 3 year old and 20 month old with my ability to stand up on moving plastic board.

I set off, and at first everything went swimmingly. But then…I got cocky. I tried to spin off the slope of a speed bump and found myself in mid air, going in the opposite direction to where the skateboard was flying.

As I landed on the road, cutting my hand, scraping my leg and bruising my ankle, I wondered why I felt the need to prove that I still had some youthful ability left in me. Was it out of fear of getting old, or was it because I hated the idea of knowing my limitations?

Probably both.

All I know is, that limping walk back to my unimpressed family is not one I want to experience anytime soon.


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