My Trike drove itself into the ocean yesterday and it sucked. I had nothing to do with it, and the trike is a liar if it says otherwise.

We were just down at the beach, and it drove in. I managed to extradite us and drove to a quiet spot, where we dried off.

Everybody around me says I should move into a rehab, hell even I've been saying it lately. The kind of place where you give up your life and your rights to them because you're a drunken loser and can't make it out here.

Hell I was that way when I moved into this trailer at Dan and Shelbys place across the bay. The number one rule was that I couldn't drink. I didn't, got a summer job at the resort and landed in great physical shape.

As I look around me, I've landed at a pretty cool place to live. Yea the floors of the trailer need work, but it's a block away from the ocean and the neighbors are cool. I can also drive my trike for whatever I need.

I'm 79 years old. I could say the hell with it and settle into a rehab place, give what few remaining possessions I have left, away, then become a vegetable until I die.

Or I could do what I did last Summer, exercise, no booze, get healthy. The biggest issue I have with most of these rehab places is they're almost all faith based.

I have learned over my many years that there are countless things I don't know. And there are things I believe in and things I don't. But I know in my heart that I'm not a religious man. If someone's going to shove religion down me as a means to cure me, I'm out.

So it's back on me again. Get my shit together, get healthy again, and enjoy this Alabama/Florida sliver of beach land while I can. On my own terms.