Riddles About Retirement

My life is like a train. An old, stately, puffing steam locomotive.

It's like a train, but without a destination, and only able to move forward.

During the journey, so many stations. Some distant, some close. Some in plain, easy to reach, and other mountains in the snow or in the storm. Some nice, other than that you will not stop even for a second. And very, very few are those who never leaves. But you have to.

In the convoy there are several coaches. And on those cars is passed or there is all the people I know. At the bottom the wagon "work" ', then the "friends", and immediately after the "relatives". Later, smaller than the "friends". It often happens that people move from one car to another. Usually there is more movement in the fund, there is much less control. Attached to the locomotive there is a tiny, with mum, dad and David.

I'm driving, shoveling coal for the boiler.

Next to me, now there's an empty seat.

is that of the driver. It is an important place, certainly. A place dedicated to those who had jointly decided to jump on the same track, with its own locomotive, their cars, their passengers; and link the whole, to see to achieve common goals, and strive to improve the path less. Or simply help keep them running in the two locomotives, polish them for good. Love each other.

is a mess, you can not think that any engine can fit. There is the fastest, the most beautiful, the rickety, one that fails to keep pace ... It is not that from morning to night you find the model compatible with yours. When and if you happen thank heavens. Every now and then rattle, from the pressure, heat, and refurbishing.

Although you do not expect that the first draw is the hook notches, actually.

keep shoveling coal.