Watching the Spandex people

It always amazes me the people who go thru life without looking around them. I spend five to six hours a week at my gym trying to not become a middle aged blob. I sweat, I gasp for air, I make horrible faces while struggling with the weight machines and I watch the Spandex people.
If you've never spent much time at a gym or never paid attention while you were there then the Spandex people might have escaped you. These aren't regular folks, because no one can act normal while clad in workout gear, red in the face and sweating. Spandex people are a lot like nudists in their attitudes. You cannot be in a aerobics class looking at a line of bouncing rumps of all sexes knowing there's a line of people behind you watching your rump for an hour or more and keep your same body attitudes. Workout gear, even baggy sweats doesn't let you hide like regular clothes. If you're flabby, we know it, if you're toned, we know it.
I myself am a 40+ yr old rounded woman with more grey hair than brown these days. I can and have gotten onto eliptical machines beside nubile 19 yr old perky boobed blond with less than 2% body fat. One day I was surrounded by a cheerleading squad and their bevy of teenage male admirers. Before I became a true Spandex person I would have never been able to stand comfortably in their midst let alone been bouncing up and down in a sports bra and spandex shorts. I am now a true Spandex person.
It doesn't take wearing Spandex to be a Spandex person. One of the weight lifters I chat with regularly works out in cut off sweat pants held up with suspenders because he lost the string. It's not unusual at all to see him in the Ab class surrounded by a dozen ladies doing the routines along with them. They are all Spandex people and accept him with smiles every day.
Sadly there are so many people who can't see the Spandex way. They come in and try not to getting sweaty or look at the people who are. We call them fanners, because they so seldom put any effort into what they are do they are just moving a little air around. They roll their eyes at the fat lady struggling on the assisted chin machine, me, or the ancient old guy in equally ancient shorts on the rowing machine. He's 87 with perfect blood pressure, damn low cholestrol and he can still bench press 30lbs more than he weighs. He's my idol.
Some non Spandexers do really work out. One guy I call, Mr. Cologne, is ultra buff and really puts in the hours to keep himself up. He never talks to anyone, but is quick to flex if any females less than 20 and good enough looking cast an eye his way. Someday he will become like Toupee guy, well over 60, still trying to look hip for the very young ladies, but just as willing to show off to himself in the big mirrors. To me neither of them is good looking.
Good looking and ultra cute is the burly logger who once called out to his buddies, "Hey watch this!" Then squatted down to do a dead lift and completely ripped out the back of his shorts with his back end pointed at the full spinning class. He turned bright red, but instead of getting upset or just running he whipped off his shirt to cover his rear then did a pretty good strip tease imitation all the way to the locker room. He is a true Spandex person.

Vehicles

Reading a friends blog about cars made me smile. Just last week I was hurrying through a parking lot when an old battered Dodge truck caught my eye. It was green, white and rust, identical to hundreds of other wheezing old hulks still managing to stay rolling, but this one still sported the remains of the half dozen pro feminist and out right lesbian bumper stickers I had pasted on it over a decade ago. I'm sure more than a few shoppers wondered about the woman standing in the freezing wind looking at an old truck and laughing.
When that truck and I first crossed paths it was owned by a friend of mines husband and it was the brand new darling of his life. Long story short, I didn't like the guy at all and he was developing both a gambling and drinking problem. Understand I don't drink and I'm way to tight with a buck to do any real gambling, but I'm not above playing with people stupid enough to drink and gamble simaltaneously. A smile, a few stupid questions and a look of innocence can get a gal into a poker game with a bunch of drunk guys pretty quick. Most of the time I just played for a little pocket money, but the night I got into a game with him I was just mean. It took less than two hours before I had every dime he had and the title to that pretty truck. I left him sitting in that bar with no way home and no money to keep drinking.

Mean to him and mean to his wife are two separate things. The guy was a contractor and had to have the truck and all the tools in the back to make a living. I drove that truck straight to his street, parked it out of sight and went in to explain to my friend what had happened. She listened then handed the keys back to me saying, "I want you to do me a favor and keep the truck until I say he's ready to get it back. Drive it, play with it, let all your dogs slobber in it."

I did just what she asked and put the bumper stickers on the back. It was the nicest set of wheels I'd ever owned and with her ok drove it all the way to California to visit family with all three dogs in the cab.

About two weeks in my friend showed up with $500 in cash and bought the truck and tools back. I wasn't going to take the cash until she said he'd sold his hunting rifles to get enough money to buy a beater truck and some basic tools so he could start working again. He'd known all along I would have given it back if he'd come himself and asked, but he wouldn't. My one stipulation for letting him have it back was the bumper stickers stayed on.

I lost track of my friend not long after. They moved to Texas where she had family the last I heard so seeing the truck back here in Oregon was a real surprise.

Sadly I couldn't wait to see who was driving it but I left a note under the windshield wiper. It would be very cool to hear from here again, but if he's the one driving I doubt he'll be passing my note along. Then again, maybe he will since he left those bumper stickers on there for over ten years.