When we visited Aunt Ruth for a weekend last summer, she was ninety-seven and a half. She insisted on picking us up at the airport. The plan was that we would drop our bags at her house, freshen up, and then go out to dinner with my cousins. Our plane was a few hours late, so Aunt Ruth asked cousin Arnold to pick us up at the airport. She was concerned that we would be cutting it close for our dinner reservation because the delay of our plane meant she would not have enough time to get ready.
Aunt Ruth is extraordinary. I continue to marvel at her beauty, her sharp mind, and her ability to live on her own. But I know my reflexes aren't what they used to be, and she is twenty-six years older than I am. So we were relieved when Arnold met us at the airport.
On Monday we had a flight home at the crack of dawn. Aunt Ruth arranged for a driver to take us to the airport so she could get her beauty sleep. So we didn't have to be concerned about driving with her then either.
Last month, Aunt Ruth turned ninety-eight. Her three sons and their wives, in town for the occasion, said it was time for her to stop driving. She protested that all her younger friends count on her because she is the only one who can drive at night. Her sons insisted that she at least have her reflexes tested. (Her sons probably are old enough to have their reflexes tested too.) She agreed.
The test required that she drive on the thruway and get off and on twice. She also had some reflex testing at the hospital where one of her children works. Apparently, she passed summa cum laude, and the woman who tested her told her that she was the first person over ninety who has ever passed that test.
You go Girl!