Anniversary Bedding and Other Extreme Sports

Wednesday, June 6, 2018 | 0 Comment(s)

Last week was my wife and my sixth anniversary.
*Pause for audience applause*
Anniversaries are like birthdays for your marriage, but they are also unlike birthdays, in that they celebrate an actual accomplishment.
I mean, unless you want to argue that birthdays are a celebration of the accomplishment of your mother giving birth. Because all you really have to do to achieve a subsequent birthday is not die. And since I don't see people having "Mom" themed birthday parties, I'm gonna say that birthdays are like personal New Year's Eve celebrations: Much ado about celebrating the passage of time as an accomplishment.

Now anniversaries are an entirely different beast. Every year of marriage is a legitimate achievement, worthy of celebration. Hell, anniversaries are important. You don't want to take for granted the success of simultaneously negotiating two lives (at least) without complete implosion. Marriage is work. It turns out that "forever," even for humans, is a pretty long-ass time. And so, every year, at the very least, ya'll earned yourselves a cake. More than likely, a night out is in order.

Last year, our dog Grover took us on a trip to the Veterinary ER for our anniversary. It was, and forgive any potential hyperbole, the absolute worst fucking anniversary ever. So, the wife and I decided to bring it back to basics this year. Get our nostalgia on. And since our relationship poked its budding head out of the soil in Boston, we headed back to the Fens for our weekend celebration.

Pictured: My wife and my relationship, as a metaphor, in Boston

Driving Schooled: I Make Driving Fun Again . . . AND Make You a Better Driver

Thursday, May 7, 2015 | 0 Comment(s)

When I was 16, the majority of my best friends lived in New York State, with me living a stone's throw over the Massachusetts border. Six months later when I got my first car, a used, light blue, 1986 Volvo 740 GLE that I called the Matt-Mobile, I was off. Every weekend that didn't involve a family or sport's committment, I hopped in my freedom ride and took to the relatively open road of Route 20, headed toward Albany.

I loved driving. I didn't need a souped up engine under the hood or a flashy spoiler on my trunk to enjoy the experience of getting behind the wheel. Rolling down the windows was enough for me. The act of driving meant that I, for the first time in my life, got to choose my own destination. I was no longer at the mercy of car pools, ride shares, and asking my parents for a lift to the mall. The independence my vehicle afforded me helped guide me in the direction of the future I wanted for myself, which I had not found in Pittsfield's Wendy's or Dunkin' Donuts' parking lots. I know, cause that's where i looked during most lunch hours throughout high school.

My Dream Car: 1970's BMW 2002 -Daytona Orange

Somewhere along the double yellow lined highway of life, I started to enjoy my time behind the wheel less and less. There were a bunch of factors. I drove across the country six times. My back turned on me, making sitting for long periods of time painful. When I lost a great deal of sight in my right eye a few years ago, it was the final nail in the coffin for driving as anything other than a means of getting me from place to place.

But that sucks. With the weather getting nice and with the new tires just put on my present car, a 2004 Volvo S60 with some giddy-up, I miss the relaxation of a long drive to nowhere in particular. So, I decided to make up a driving game to re-engage me with the road.