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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dreaddisease" data-source="post: 501251" data-attributes="member: 3548"><p>Retirees often keep themselves and their money busy doing things with their time.   But often find themselves staring off down that dusty road that leads out of town and into the unknown.  Wishing for the campanionship of the group and the careless freedoms of the country air and the heat of battle. They find themselves reminiscing with whomever will spend an afternoon with them.  Dazzling them of the tales of yesteryear or perking their interest with stories of paths they did not have time to take.  Their life seems calm and serene and almost idyllic spending their last days slowly spending the loot they've acquired.  But sometimes, when its late, and the tales have spun themselves to sleep, they finally cry for those companions that were slain before their very eyes.  Sometimes they wake up in fright remembering thosee sleepless nights of horror or keep a steady watch for that evil that haunted them for many months or years.  Thus their tale is not so great, and not so wonderful as many believe.  They are remnants of a great age, remnants of time, and one day they will die, forgotten and alone.</p></blockquote><p></p>