A LIKELY STORY: MISTAKES ARE MADE ALONG THE ROAD TO FIND OUT

"So on and on I go,

the seconds tick the time out

there's so much left to know

and I'm on the road to find out."

-- Cat Stevens, "On the Road to Find Out."

In basic training, the running joke was that soldiers had to hurry up and wait. It seemed pointless that drill sergeants pushed us to move as quickly as we could to the chow hall, the barber shop, or anywhere else. And then, once we got there -- often in record time -- we were greeted by long lines and often over an hour wait.

"Hurry up and wait," someone would always mutter with a sigh. As it became more and more true, it lost its humor.

As a child, I was always in a hurry to be older than I was. When I reached the desired age, I realized I was no better off.

Walking down a dirty old road as an 8-year-old boy, I remember thinking that in eight MORE years, I could finally drive.

Having to wait that long seemed excruciatingly painful and unfair. I wanted to be 16 at that moment, and I was only halfway there.

But time marched on as determinedly as me but at a snail's pace, and my 16th birthday came. Ironically, in retrospect, it now seems to have zoomed by like a small town on a long trip.

I remember driving my dad's car around like it was my own. It may as well have been -- the dings and dents were mine. It was my dad's back-up car and it was pretty nice. Almost so nice that I didn't mind that it had an eight-track player in it.

Almost.

This was 1988, not '68 and the only eight-tracks I could find were a Cheech and Chong comedy tape and Elton John's "Greatest Hits." It's hard to keep friends when all you have for tunes is "Honky Cat" or "The Bitch is Back."

Anyway, when I was 16, I longed for 17, able to get in to any R-rated movie that struck my fancy. At 17, I wanted to be 18, and at 18, 21, an adult in name only with an adult's I.D.

At 21, there was no place to go, no age to long for. When I turn 25 next Tuesday my insurance rates will drop and I guess that's something.

Twenty-five? I still can't believe it. It only seems like yesterday I was getting beaten up for my money by every bully in Washington Elementary. If I didn't have any money, they'd kindly take an I.O.U.

Twenty-five? This is a fact I find amazing and disconcerting.

I know I'm still too young to legitimately say this but I will anyway: I still find it amazing that I've managed to live this long and come this far. Not that my life has been dangerous. Other than the times I have not done what my wife told me, it hasn't been.

It just seemed that every time I came to a crossroads, whenever I was faced with a tough choice -- left or right, stop or go, -- invariably I made the wrong one. Sure, I regret them, but that really gets you nothing more than enough baggage for several guilt trips.

I have the common sense of Shelly Long, David Caruso and McLean Stevenson, who all decided to leave popular TV shows for what turned out to be forgettable movie careers.

If I was an actor, I'd quit "L.A. Law" because "Police Academy 12" is just too good to pass by.

But the disconcerting part about turning 25 isn't the mistakes I've made; it's that I know I have many more mistakes left to make.

Life throws a zillion choices at us daily. I can't even find my watch in the morning without my wife, let alone try to head a household or shape young minds into intelligent human beings.

But what are you going to do?

The nice thing is, I don't think I've repeated too many mistakes. I've learned from them.

I hate to get philosophical here, but isn't life about making mistakes and isn't life an educational road? And don't we make a few wrong turns here and there? Isn't it about the journey and not the destination? And maybe life is about finding out everything you can about life.

Even if it's the hard way.

Scott Moyers is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.