Old Fogeys.
What other time could you sit down and relax with a bunch of old (emphasis) pals, swing back a couple brewskies and play pinochle?
What other time in your life could you spend two hours getting ready for the dog races? By yourself?
What other time could you laugh in your kids' faces and blow their inheritance on a brand new Cadillac El Dorado? Then proceed to drive it fifteen slower than posted just to piss 'em off even more in the back seat?
The answer is, of course, only when you're an Old Fogey.
