Aged Like Scotch: Not Dead Yet
Maybe it's the fact that he has worked on Dodge Vipers and usually has an energy drink in his hand, but Gary doesn't strike me as old, at least not compared to the ladies and gents I've talked about so far. Consider him the freshman of this group of miscreants crowned with white wisdom.
I've only known Gary for six or so years, but the Red Bull drinking, greasy fingered mechanic, prophet and preacher, has raised the bar for me in terms of what it means to run hard in the last quarter life. Heck, he's redefined what it means to run hard at any age. I would follow that man to the ends of the earth.
And this is the thing that gets me about Gary. He still sees himself as a student. If you get to know Gary, you get the impression that he knows and does a great deal more than you do, and yet you get confused because seems to think he's barely got started. As he once told me, "We stop crapping our pants and the way we dance about it you'd think we'd won the superbowl or something. I mean yea it's great, but that's potty training." There is zero presumption. He doesn't feign spirituality to impress, nor is he all that impressed by spirituality. He's impressed by God and God's love for people. And much like someone else I've heard about, he draws very un-churchy people like flies: fixing cars for single moms, helping people on their last leg get an apartment or a trailer to live in, then helping them move their smoke stained couch. Jesus is what wakes Gary up in the morning –Jesus and Red Bull.
So to end the week, I lift a can of taurine to the Bettys, Ritas, and Garys of the world. May we all keep living, learning, and loving as long and thorough as you do.