When I look back with the eyes of a 65-year-old at some of the situations I put myself in in my younger years, I shudder. I assume many of you reading this feel the same.

Carloads of buddies barreling down the Parkway on a Friday night to make it to our rental in Ship Bottom with coolers full and heads empty to what the ramifications could be. Not a care in the world and, as the bumper sticker on my buddy Rocco’s car alerted all, not a turn was left unstoned.