The Old Coot gets a Comeuppance

This column was published in August of 2008. It’s being republished to honor the memory of Bill Schweizer, who died this year at age 99. My Hero!

I was in Dunkin Donuts the other morning. It was about 6 a.m. and nobody was around. Sunday morning was just coming up, a lazy, peaceful time. I was nestled in a chair by the window; the muddy Susquehanna was off to my right; the intersection of Front and Park was straight ahead. 

I counted the signs at the corner. There were 15 separate pieces of tin giving directions to three car routes, two bike routes, and two local streets in view from where I sat. A lot of information to decipher while driving down Park Street, talking on a cell phone, balancing a cup of coffee between one’s knees and looking for route 17C. 

This is the same spot where the inspiration to write about spandex came to me a few months back. The need to ban it! It started when a spandex clad cyclist pulled up to the intersection and stopped for a red light. He was perched on a high-tech racing bike; an aerodynamic helmet that made him look like a space alien was on his head; a pair of exotic cycling shoes were bolted to his pedals.

The light didn’t change! He, and his bike, weren’t heavy enough to trip the sensor in the road that would turn the traffic signal from red to green, in spite of his being at least 50 pounds overweight. He waited and waited. Finally, he got off his bike and walked it over to the pedestrian crossing button and pushed it. It gave me the chance to examine his spandex profile in depth, the proverbial two pounds of bologna in a one-pound sack. It fueled my desire to ban the stuff, at least for “athletes” of his stature. 

As often happens when I shoot my mouth off in print, I irk a few people. Okay, a lot of people. This time it moved a reader to challenge my spandex stance with a poem. A friendly neighbor who lives a few doors up the street from me penned it. He thought he could do it anonymously but as is always the case when I say I won’t mention the subject’s name, I do. 

Here is the spandex rebuttal poem, written by Bill Schweizer. 

I wonder what bothers the Old Coot

On spandex he should have stayed mute

Was this a confession

To hide an obsession

Or just a try to be cute

Referring again to Old Coot

Whose column one must refute

Why can’t he find

A spandex behind

Is really a nice attribute

The subject of spandex is not mute

In spite of complaints by the Old Coot

He should not pretend

All’s well in the end

If spandex was given the boot

As the biker went by really cruising

His spandex controlling the bruising

He yelled at the Old Coot

Your column’s a hoot

But I don’t find it very amusing

This message I give to Old Coot

At least try a spandex suit

You’ll ride with abandon

On your 10 speed tandem

With out a suffering glute

I’ve finally run out of “oots”

To disparage the column by Coots

I’ll give it a rest

And wish him the best

In spite of our spandex disputes