My first experience needing a cane, walker and wheelchair came a hell of a lot earlier than expected: at the tender age of sixteen, after my one awful car accident. One seriously ruined summer (which I’ve already described here), and weeks of rehab, from wheelchair to walker to crutches to cane – I described the experience to a friend as “a glimpse at being a very wrecked 85-year-old”, but at least progressing in reverse order. I also said that I’d never take the act of walking without pain for granted, ever again. And, I haven’t.

Many, many years of cycling have helped keep me relatively limber. Since exiting the big city for the ‘burbs, I’m cycling somewhat less, but making up for it with twice-weekly sessions at the local gym with a terrific instructor (Navy vet, currently a cop in Jersey City) whom I refer to as a jovial drill sergeant. He’s just a few years younger than me (I’m 60).

And…I want a good walking stick! One of the few things I miss about living in New York City is that it’s truly a walking city. An old conceit is that you rarely saw seriously overweight folks in Gotham; the proliferation of fast-food chains has been said to have altered that notion somewhat, but whenever I’m in town (mostly on business, a few days a week), I’m seriously working the footwear – now, I even have my smartphone confirming this, sort of a pumped-up pedometer. I actually saw a very elegant folding walking stick, with a handle, and, topping it off, literally, was a mount for turning it into an ersatz monopod. Don’t think it was terribly cheap, but this thread has lit a fire to find it, and squirrel away my nickels for one. One day I might really need it, but for now it would be simply a pleasure to use.

Oh, about that basement: when we got our house a little under two years ago (a mile from the Jersey Shore…far enough away to have dodged Sandy, but you can’t be complacent), we had the basement fortified, sump pumps, French drain, and new walls. Absolutely worth it.

Foam not much good in the sub tropics and tropics; blocks up and overflows. A coarse plastic mesh then becomes more appropriate.
By the way I had a bit of a perhaps inappropriate laugh from all you old crocks.
I no longer feel alone.

No problem carrying that stick on the Vespa!

Hah — more scooter, less stick. I’ll try, I’ll try. I have the itch to ride.

Fletcher was a great influence for me. Almost as great as Edward Abbey. Words are fading fast now as I try to write this comment. Time to sleep…

I’m on the mend David. I’ll have to look into the foam. The fine needles from huge spruce trees just clogs everything up. Nothing like leaves.

I’m going slow. Time will tell when it makes sense to ride or rest.

Karl, I can relate to your story. When my back feels ok I can start carrying heavy stuff which always leads to problems.

Wish my father and I walked and hiked together. As close as we ever came to that kind of thing was hunting. I went out in the woods with him from age 13 until 17. Then off to school and then married a vegetarian. Hunting was abandoned…

The decline of the body is a challenging road. Each of us has our own path to navigate.

No sump pump. Just a shop vac…

You know where I’m coming from. Feels awful when at its peak.

Feeling a lot better. Hoping my back says, “go for a ride” in the morning.

I can’t believe it has come to the point where I’m writing about sticks, canes and my lower back. What happened Karl??

The Hurry Cane looks pretty neat but I’ll stick with mine made from a maple sapling…