My friend Bob

I have a friend named Bob. Lots of times when I go to the YMCA, Bob and I will hit the sauna at just about the same time. Today, I ran my fugly ass off playing basketball. I mean, my ankles are sore, my calves ache and I haven't ran that hard in awhile. It felt really good and a good sauna after that is my dessert. When I got to the sauna, Bob was there. Bob is about 83 and could kick my ass. He lifts like a madman. Anyway, his daughters live in Kansas City and apparently, they used to be listeners when I lived there a couple of years ago. Bob keeps reminding me why I run as hard as I do. I want to end up like Bob. At 83, he just doesn't seem old to me. One day he said he just wants to drop over dead. He thinks that in his sleep would be real nice but will be happy whenever God takes him. I want to die like that too. Or naked on a Saturday night with a beautiful woman, but she would probably get stuck cleaning up the mess. Not good. Here's to Bob.