I reached the ripe old age of 30 unexpectedly, traveling through Europes' winter in search of something that escapes me now, but seemed important at the time.
Unexpectedly because I had always assumed that I would be long gone by 30 - seemed to be the way I was headed, better, as Neil says, to burn out than to fade away - and I lived by that mantra.
I had done most things, experienced just about everything there was to experience, wasn't really looking for extra time.
Up to my arse in snow somewhere in Germany and I'm 30. No script for the rest of it at all, might as well just take it as it presents itself I figured.
Maybe snow does that to you.
Turned out to be a good decision - 40 came and I was mildly surprised to see it - the 30 mantra still there, but so was I.
I hadn't been shot dead (shot at, but not dead), hadn't been locked up for a sentence of several decades (several minor short visits don't count), hadn't really managed to overbalance the scales enough to fall off.
Life as normal, as normal as my life goes. Contemplated slowing down on the adrenalin rush stuff, reasoning I had to run out of luck sometime, but hell, it's like a diet - what do you cut out if you love it all?
The 40's - cruising.
Now, today, right now, I'm 50 years old.
50 years old - half a century.
The age where people describe you as 'getting on', the age that people start to look to young people like real live old bastards.
The age, finally, where my grey hair fits.
Hell, I think that is an amazing achievement - on my part, and on the part of all those who had, at one time or another, a reason to want me never to see the incredible 50 year milestone.
I got here - you all failed (some of you got bloody close though, I'll give you that), and now I don't give a shit how it goes.
I made 30, I made 40, and I just made 50.
Strange thing about physical age is it doesn't seem to matter.
What matters is the age you carry around in your head.
My head still thinks it's doing the 30 year trip - good ehh?