My OLDER Brother

I have two brothers. Furry is the youngest. His birthday was exactly a week ago. My other brother is B. Up until last year he was always younger than I. Today is his 25th birthday. Since I will be turning 24 (again) next month, this means he is now the oldest. I'm okay with that.

B and I have some good memories ... and some not so good. I guess that's the way it goes with all siblings. One good memory that comes to mind is when he went with me from western Washington to Montana to visit my BFF, Mrs. Cowboy (this was prior to her becoming Mrs. Cowboy) so that I wouldn't have to drive the ten hours by myself. We had a fun time on that trip. B is usually good company. Conversation is never lacking when he is around. His brain is full of facts and figures and trivia, some of them useful, some of them not so useful. Anyway, on this particular trip while it was my turn to drive, B fell asleep in the passenger seat and I happily cruised down the road at 80 mph. The speed limit was 70. Suddenly an unmarked white Volvo station wagon pulled out of a gully ahead of me, started flashing blue lights, and the state trooper inside motioned for me to pull over. The instant I hit the rumble strip on the side of the highway B woke up. With his trademark big grin on his face he said, without even sitting up, "Got pulled over, huh?"

For the record, I didn't get a ticket.

B, if you're reading this, happy birfday.