Every afternoon I walk the desert behind my house in the heat of the mid-day sun along with Mad Dogs and Englishmen to get in that mythical 10,000 steps a day. I hear a Japanese fitness company invented that number to sell their pedometers, but it seems about right to me in practice. I wear an Aussie bush hat, shorts, and carry a big stick to defend myself against whatever creatures I might run into in the high desert, be they four-legged, two legged, or no legs. I don't wear a shirt. I am one of those nature boy nuts who think exposure to the sun for vitamin D production is good for you. In my lifetime I have noticed the people that I know who have gotten skin cancer were the most judicious about protecting their skin and using sunscreen, but that is another topic.

A few days ago, I was walking my street on the way to the trailhead and a commercial HVAC van was parked in front of my neighbor's house with two young Hispanic guys in the front seats. As I was walking by, the one seated on the passenger side said to me, "Where are you going, grandpa, you gonna fight somebody with that big stick?" Now a flood of snappy comebacks came flooding to my mind in response to this provocation, but there is a reason I have made it to 73 and having never been in a physical fight, in spite of having had some shaky professions practiced in some shady hoods. It taught me to observe first, act second. The first thing I noticed was this young man was missing a couple front teeth, had a few scars on his head, and a sleeve of prison tats, the kind you don't get at the local strip mall tattoo shop catering to hipster moms getting tramp stamps. Plus, HVAC is one of the big training programs in prison. I hired paroled inmates to rehab houses in Detroit, and this guy had all the markings.

My first mental response was along the lines of "I was thinking of beating the shit out of you to start with, pendejo, but it looks like someone else beat me to it." But instead, I just smiled and said, "Grandpas can't be too careful, mijo." It was a reminder that in the eyes of the world I am just an old man stumbling along in life. But I'm a survivor, and I am good with that.