First, there there was the older-than-my-parents woman on a skateboard. And then today, I was riding in the bus when a car passed by. It was a candy apple red convertible with the top down. The driver was probably in her sixties. She wore big, round sunglasses, with frames the same colour as her car. She had a long, red-and-white polka dotted scarf wrapped around her curly brown hair. Her jacket was also that same colour. Her friend in the passenger seat had white hair (also permed), with a leapord-print scarf wrapped around her head, and expensive-looking metal-rimmed sunglasses.
And they were both dancing to the music playing over the car's stereo system. On a cloudy Tuesday morning in April, as if it was a sunny summer afternoon.
This city has taught me a lot about age, and about what life can be like after retirement.
(Actually, it's just occurred to me that both of these sightings have happened on the same street, and have both happened on my way to the chiropractor. Strange. Although not so strange, considering that trips to the chiropractor are usually the only times when I get away from the youth-oriented parts of the city.)