"I think I was just born to be wild," he said. "It just took me sixty-five years to realize it."
On the eve of his sixty-fifth birthday, Arthur officially retired. His colleagues gifted him a silver watch and a polite applause. As he walked out of the glass building for the very last time, the watch felt heavy on his wrist. It was a countdown to a quiet, stationary life. born_to_be_wild
For the first time in his entire life, Arthur wasn't following a schedule, a GPS, or a set of rules. He was chasing the horizon. "I think I was just born to be wild," he said
Arthur pulled out of his driveway and headed straight for the open highway. At first, the sheer speed terrified him. The wind battered against his helmet, and the asphalt blurred beneath his feet. He felt entirely out of his comfort zone. But as the city skyline disappeared in his rearview mirror and gave way to towering green pines and massive open skies, the fear transformed into pure, unadulterated electricity. He wasn't just driving; he was flying. 🦅 True Nature's Child As he walked out of the glass building
Arthur spent forty years precisely where society expected him to be. He sat in a climate-controlled office, filed tax audits, and organized his colored pencils by length every morning at 8:00 AM sharp. He wore pressed grey suits, ate turkey sandwiches on wheat bread, and took the same bus route home every single day.
Three weeks later, the grey suits were gone. Arthur stood in his driveway wearing a thick, worn-in leather jacket and a pair of sturdy boots. He straddled the heavy machine, turned the key, and kicked the starter.