The
Old Coot Gets a Comeuppance
By
Merlin Lessler
This
column was published in August, 2008. It’s being republished to honor the
memory of Bill Schweizer who died this year at age 99. My Hero!
I
was in Dunkin Donuts the other morning. It was about six am. Nobody was around.
Sunday morning was just coming up, a lazy, peaceful time. I was nestled in a
chair by the window; the muddy Susquehanna was off to my right; the
intersection of Front and Park was straight ahead. I counted the signs at the
corner. There were 15 separate pieces of tin giving directions to three car
routes, two bike routes and two local streets in view from where I sat. A lot of
information to decipher while driving down Park Street, talking on a cell
phone, balancing a cup of coffee between one’s knees and looking for route 17C.
This is the same spot where the inspiration to write about spandex came to me a
few months back. The need to ban it! It started when a spandex clad cyclist
pulled up to the intersection and stopped for a red light. He was perched on a high-tech
racing bike; an aerodynamic helmet that made him look like a space alien was on
his head; a pair of exotic cycling shoes were bolted to his pedals. The light
didn’t change! He, and his bike, weren’t heavy enough to trip the sensor in the
road that would turn the traffic signal from red to green, in spite of his
being at least fifty pounds overweight. He waited and waited. Finally, he got
off his bike and walked it over to the pedestrian crossing button and pushed
it. It gave me the chance to examine his spandex profile in depth, the
proverbial two pounds of bologna in a one-pound sack. It fueled my desire to
ban the stuff, at least for “athletes” of his stature.
As
often happens when I shoot my mouth off in print, I irk a few people. Ok, a lot
of people. This time it moved a reader to challenge my spandex stance with a
poem. A friendly neighbor who lives a few doors up the street from me penned
it. He thought he could do it anonymously but as is always the case when I say
I won’t mention the subject’s name, I do. Here is the spandex rebuttal poem, written
by Bill Schweizer.
I
wonder what bothers the Old Coot
On
spandex he should have stayed mute
Was
this a confession
To
hide an obsession
Or
just a try to be cute
Referring
again to Old Coot
Whose
column one must refute
Why
can’t he find
A
spandex behind
Is
really a nice attribute
The
subject of spandex is not mute
In
spite of complaints by Old Coot
He
should not pretend
All’s
well in the end
If
spandex was given the boot
As
the biker went by really cruising
His
spandex controlling the bruising
He
yelled at Old Coot
Your
column’s a hoot
But
I don’t find it very amusing
This
message I give to Old Coot
At
least try a spandex suit
You’ll
ride with abandon
On
your 10 speed tandem
With
out a suffering glute
I’ve
finally run out of “oots”
To
disparage the column by Coots
I’ll
give it a rest
And
wish him the best
In
spite of our spandex disputes
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