📖 Story: Jet Skis at 50 (From my book “Fry Your Chickens!”)
(From my book Fry Your Chickens!)
It’s a warm day in July. We’re on our annual South Carolina family vacation. I’m sharing a beach towel with my wife.
I’d recently hit a milestone birthday.
The big 5-0. Five decades. Half a century. 50. Years. Old.
When Do We Get Old?
After 50 trips around the sun? After spending too much time in the sun? Or is it when we have a teenage son?
Our son Kenny walks up to us and says, “Mom, Dad, can we rent jet skis?”
This gets an immediate reaction from a chicken I like to call Couch Potato Carl.
As the name implies, Carl is not a fan of getting out and trying new things.
Most of my chickens have calls, but not Carl. He’s too lazy to come up with one.
COUCH POTATO CARL: Jet skis? Noooo! I didn’t even want to come to the beach, but you forced that—jet skis are way too much!
ME: You’re making some sense—I mean, I am 50 now. WAIT—that’s exactly what my dad used to say. We wanted to have fun, and he would say, “I’m 50, you go without me.”
CARL: Yeah, your dad was a genius! Play the 50 card!
ME: But if I try something new, I might…
CARL: Get eaten by a shark! I can see it now: “Tonight on Shark Week—50-year-old man takes his final ride!” Say no now! Say no now!
MY WIFE: Jet skis? That sounds like fun!
Now what? It’s one thing to act old in front of my kids. They expect it. But to act old in front of my wife? No way.
CARL: Tell them they’re out of jet skis!
ME (to Carl): Brilliant!
ME (to the family): Yeah, that’d be great. But they probably don’t have any available. Maybe next year.
KENNY (grabbing my phone and typing): No. They have some. I made reservations. On my credit card.
Later that day, I saw a jet ski up close for the first time and thought, “I’m 50!” I was about to say, “Go without me,” when I saw a poster.
It spoke to who I am. I said, “You know what? I’m going to do it!”
I’ll never forget the words on that poster:
“No refunds.”
We’re at the end of the No Wake Zone. My wife and I are floating on a jet ski. Kenny is on our left. My sons Joe and Tom are on our right.
All of the sudden Joe and Tom take off at 47 miles per hour!
Kenny takes off at 47 miles per hour!
So we take off at… 27 miles per hour.
And even at that speed, we’re bouncing all over.
CARL: Why, why, why?
Salt water starts splashing in my mouth.
CARL: We’re gonna die, die, die!
Behind me, my wife is holding on for dear life—her arms wrapped tightly around me in a giant hug.
And I think, “You know, it’s not all bad.”
So we accelerate— To 28.
Two minutes later, I take a break. As we slow down, Kenny pulls up beside me and says, “Hey, old man… wanna race?”
There’s a difference between being old and being dead. I take off.
It was so fast, Carl fell off the jet ski, squawking and flapping as he hit the imaginary water in my mind.
Something interesting happened.
As I went faster, the ride got smoother—and I felt younger.
At 40 miles per hour, I was 40 again. At 45, I was 25! At 50, I was 13!
(If I had gone much faster, I might have needed diapers.)
As the speedometer inched toward 55, I thought, “I feel young again. I owe Kenny one! I’ll tell him that… if I ever catch up to him.”
I lost the race, but I won something bigger.
That day I didn’t get one day older—I got one day younger. The whole family did.
At the end of the day, we decided that every vacation we would do something new.
The Real Lesson
Trying new things isn’t just for vacations.
New restaurant? One day younger. New card game? One day younger. Ride a new roller coaster with my son? That’s half a day younger.
I used to think that getting older meant I should slow down and play it safe.
It turned out that slowing down and playing it safe was making me older.
We don’t grow old just because the calendar says so. We grow old when we stop saying yes to new things.
Final Thought
Are you too comfortable on your beach?
Life comes with no refunds. What jet ski will you ride today?
Let me know in the comments!
We don’t grow old just because the calendar says so.
We grow old when we stop saying yes to new things.
My Midlife Crisis Was a Beach Towel. My Cure Was a Jet Ski.
My Midlife Crisis Was a Beach Towel. My Cure Was a Jet Ski.
ultima modifica: 2025-08-05T17:12:34-04:00
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