You admire the rippling muscle of your arms and know it's just as solid as a rock under that padding of fat. You've got tree trunk legs too. Your gut could stop a cannonball, it's so hard. It doesn't look like muscle, it looks like a big santa belly, but underneath it's steel. You have a muscular bear's phisique, a bit on the chubby side, but far stronger than people give you credit for. You pull a black Harley muscle shirt on over your huge furry torso. It's an XXXL with a grizzly on the front. You look at your muscular tat-covered, furry arms and do a body builder pose in the mirror. You smile as you pick up your cigar and beer and head into the living room. You're one sexy man for sixty, Hell, you're sexier than most 40 year old men and you've gotten lots of interested looks from women... and some men.
Your former dad, now your son is sitting on the couch going through some legal paperwork.
"Don't you ever relax?" You say to him in a deep gravelly, gruff sounding voice that surprises and thrills you. You absently scratch your left arm. Your arms are covered in biker tattoos, no swastikas, you aren't some God damned Nazi, you're just an all American bro who likes the freedom of the road and building the best damned custom hawgs in the state.
Your son looks up and smiles, wanly. "No, I don't suppose I do relax that often." your son says as he takes a pull on his cigar. He's grown into a fine man and almost everything you could have ever wanted for him has come true. He's successful, bright and good looking. It's a pity he's never had time for a wife and grand kids, but perhaps there’s still time, you think. You know you'd spoil his kids rotten, not like you did with him. No, you wanted something better than struggling to get by for him. You remember coming home late and kissing him on the forehead at midnight, taking the story book you used to read to him out of his arms. You remember all the missed baseball and football games because you were building your business and work had to come first so that he could attend an Ivy League college. You remember how he stood up to his ‘college friends’ and told them to fuck off when they made snide comments about his ‘White Trash Biker’ dad. He’s a success, he has that, but you see that it has been a trade off. You consider that you're probably a happier man than your son.
"Son, why don't you come to work for me? I've got the biggest, best bike customizing business in the state and I'm looking to branch out. I'm going to need a top corporate lawyer and I can't think of any better than you." You say as you sit down and put your heavy black leather boots on the coffee table.
Your son makes a slight face as you put your boots on his expensive table, but he respects and loves you far too much to object. You watch as he shrugs it off and know he's probably thinking, "Eh, I can buy another one... or have it refinished."
He takes a big swig of beer and says, "It's an attractive offer, Pop and with as much work as I seem to have to do in a day for the firm, I'm seriously considering it. Besides, I'd have more incentive because I'd be working for family."
You get up, set your beer down on the coffee table and move over behind your son and start massaging his shoulders. "You're real tense, son. How 'bout you and I make use of that fancy gym you have? When was the last time you and I worked out together?"
"I dunno... I think it was about a year and a half ago, when you were up last." Your son replies.
"You better keep up with your ol' man or you're gonna be nuthin' but flab when you're my age. How you gonna get those pretty nurses in the rest home to give you a second look if you're some fat, weak ol' cuss?" You say and tousle his hair like you did when he was a kid.
He chuckles. "OK Pop, I can spare an hour and besides, I always do better after I've set it aside." He puts his cigar in his mouth and growls out, "Let's get pumpin' ol' man" in imitation of your voice and inflections and then he gives you a hug and says, "I love you dad."
You both head for his weight room and you consider that you don't want to play too much with the chronivac; this is a pretty happy situation you've found with your dad/son, if only he'd loosen up... get a girlfriend... a tattoo... go ride with his ol' man and his ol' man's bros.