A couple of weeks ago I had lunch with an old work colleague. He's 87 years old; pulled up in his late model Lincoln and parallel parked like a pro.
For 2 1/2 hours we sat in a private room at his favorite Italian restaurant where they know him by name and bring him goodies: a free glass of wine (waiter said another patron paid for the bottle and didn't finish it), little bites brought to the table and after dinner drinks. He was full of entertaining stories going back to his youth; a time when the now densely populated suburb he still lives in had small farms scattered about and when he had a summer job waiting tables at a resort in the Catskill Mountains.
At one point he mentioned that he has an uncle who was still kicking at 100. The uncle gets a new Mercedes every year and still drives.
Good genes can make a hella difference in your later years.
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