Action hero for the 40-something set

I love the movies. Especially those made before, oh, the Ford administration.

Tell me you've never been so caught up in a film that on your way out of the theater you didn't slam your Astin Martin into first, roar onto the Autobahn with Ursula Andress at your side, evade the land mines placed by the Specter agents and expected to see Sean Connery's one raised eyebrow looking back at you in the rearview mirror as you slip away.

"Bond, James Bond."

"What was that, honey."

"Oh. Nothing."

Wake up! Your Astin Martin is a Ford Windstar, with automatic transmission. That's not the Autobahn, it's the mall service road. Land mines? Try traffic cones, moron. If you could see in the mirror thru the kids' smudged fingerprints you'd see your own glasses. And did it ever dawn on you, Double-0-Zero, why the Specter agents are all wearing day-glo vests and hard hats? It's the DOT paving crew, and SLOW the frik down before you get pinched or a double fine by speeding in a construction zone. You're scaring your wife. But you could earn a point or two if you tell her she's Ursula Andress!

Alas. By the time you get home, your Martini has turned back into a Poland Spring. The image has faded.

That's the problem with being 40-something in the age of the dashing and young. The policemen are almost all younger than you are. The baseball heroes, too. But FEAR NOT! From time to time, the ages produce the kind of icon that you can relate to. One whose persona you can wear after you've pried the last popcorn kernels from between your molars.

*His name is Ewell. Tom Ewell. *

He deals with the same demons I do.

He's just about as smooth!

And he's my favorite Summertime Action Hero.

Comments

[Leezer]

Wryter.

The female equivalent of this phenomenon is "Ball. Lucille Ball."

The world wouldn't spin on its axis without the Tom Ewells and Lucille Balls of the world.