I Finally Know Why Old Men Like To Drive Slow Pickups With The Windows Rolled Down

I've started a new thing. It's yet to be determined if it's simply a knee jerk reaction to approaching fifty. In May I began walking again(as exercise, not because I've been crippled or anything). It has evolved into an attempt to turn that effort into running. I've even bought a great book on beginning running(which I will review here later). Right now, this week, the ratio is run 1 minute/walk 2 10x. There is a wonderful afterglow when you leave the track. You want to extend the experience. Yesterday I took "cool down" to a new level.
Climbing into my gas guzzling SUV I set out on a "country man" drive down some of my favorite rural roads. First, I rolled down all the windows,turned off the radio and slowed it down to 30mph. What a beautiful world exists just five minutes from where I live. Guineas,chickens,doves,geese and the cheerful song of many birds greeted me. Mist remained from a foggy morning that straight edged beams of sunlight constantly fought to get through. Millions of rainbow prisms clung to blades of grass covered with morning dew. Some old cottages were situated close enough to the road that I imagined I smelled what they'd cooked for breakfast that morning. The country is no respector of neighborhood covenants. Rusty trailers,shabby shacks share the same rural route as opulent mansions with manicured entrances.
The most curious thing I saw was a dead white chicken lying neatly on a bed of grass. At first, I thought it was sleeping. I wonder how it died. It didn't look injured or anything. A dozen churches of just as many flavors stand in a one mile radius. Older ladies and gentlemen worked in their gardens and sunflower plots or plodded barefoot down soft dirt driveways to the mailbox. A teenage boy walks down the side of the road. Why isn't he in school?
I don't think I've ever lived in the country but there is a gnawing desire in me to own a plot of land out there. Maybe I'll just take a country drive and sit on my land. Maybe a porch swing will be hung from a strong branch and a stone fireplace built from rocks on the land will warm us as we listen and watch for no particular reason.
I like the thought of starting the second half of life like that. Tell me, what was your fifty like? I'm interested to hear.