14,000 rpm

“If I make ya laugh, do I get a freebie?” I asked the receptionist at my cardiologist.
I was on my way out — “see me again in a couple years.” I figgered they might need a copay on top of the 89 bazilyun dollars my medical insurance pays that cardiologist to shake my hand.
A while ago I did an Erie Canal cruise with fellow retired bus-drivers. When I returned to pick up my dog from doggy daycare, I said to the kennel co-owner “as you can see, the boat didn’t sink.”
Broke her up, then “No charge,” she said.
“Wait a minute!” I said. “Are you sure? Yer running a business here.”
“We like your dog, and you too,” she said.
Make ‘em laugh; collect freebie.
Not long ago an aunt died. She made 100, and I think half the reason she did was because she could laugh, especially at herself.
I.e. she didn’t take herself too seriously.
Yrs Trly is a graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Sexual Relations. Hilda was my Sunday-School Superintendent growing up. She was also my next-door neighbor.
Together with my hyper-religious parents, she convinced me no female would want anything to do with me.
It’s taken 70+ years to reverse that, partly because my wife actually liked me, which allowed me to avoid women.
My wife died five years ago, so now I’m alone. And discovering women seem to enjoy my company = make ‘em laugh.
Perhaps two weeks ago I got up enough nerve to talk to a pretty lifeguard at the YMCA pool in Canandaigua. I do aquatic-therapy there for bad balance.
I heard her say “hello” today as she walked past. But I was distracted, and didn’t respond.
Okay, gotta make the effort: go over after aquacise and say hello back.
Hilda and my parents were ringing in my head: “She won’t wanna talk to you, lecher!”
I could sense them spinning in their graves.
Let ‘er rip! Hike all the way over there and ask if she tried to say hello.
14,000 rpm; Hilda and my parents are horrified. (Gasp!)
The lifeguard smiled. If I turned her off; it wasn’t my fault. She smiled instead, and we jawed a little.
Hilda and my parents were flat wrong!

• A good crotch-rocket motorcycle might get 14,000 rpm.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that 12 years ago.
• “Q” stands for “Quincy,” her maiden-name.