Mystery Meat

How the art of good barbecue continues to elude me

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I HAVE ALWAYS dreaded getting old—but not for the reasons you might think.

My jump shot, once a thing of beauty (in my own mind), has failed me. I can no longer shoot...or jump, for that matter.

I stopped playing softball some years back because I was afraid a line drive would end my life. My reaction time can now be measured on a sundial.

My fishing days are numbered. I still like to cast a line—but it hurts to stand, and I need bifocals to bait a hook. No longer do I dream about sliding inside a sleek sports car. I look stupid getting in and ache getting out.

If you've ever wondered if you're too old for some activity, ask yourself this one question: Did I stagger as the thing was completed? I do when I stand up from an MRI...and the booth at Hungry Hut BBQ.