The bit that starts the blog

That inner clock keeps ticking away, washing our arteries and veins with blood but it's a clock with a time limit. We must be in awe at the mileage. Who or what determines the limit, God, or the diet, its open to question but lying in bed I sometimes wonder, which part will falter and when !

Such a complex apparatus. There's no badge on the nose, no reference to say how well this one is made. It's well over the warranty, and is running beyond the manufactures specification. The hoses must be perished by now and the cylinders definitely need a re-bore.
Each mile brings one closer to the terminus and sadly, all terminus's are unfriendly places, that end of the line feel with lights of suburbia behind and only darkness ahead. Of course if one keeps filling the tank there's no knowing how far you'll get, or what sights and sounds you will experience on the way, it's all a lottery since your ticket to ride has expired and the guard is looking for you.
Avoid the bumps and any excessive acceleration, keep the lubrication topped up and don't forget the water. Avoid reversing too fast, judging distance through the mirror is difficult but if you have to, do it with style and panache. Coast down the hills to save fuel and never rush the up the other side, you never know what you might meet around the bend.
The garage couldn't ensure that the last repair would last long since the manufacturer stopped making parts for this model. All they have is the bits and pieces they scrounge out of the scrap yard and of course the parts there have also past their useful life and what ever they replace your not guaranteed it won't conk out before yours.
The lungs rise and fall as they have all these years. It's amazing that the heart muscle is still pumping. All the rhythms which started on that day some time between conception and birth have been tried and tested, often abused. The body has coped with everything the brain has thrown at it. The thrill seeking, the quirky abstinence, the use of stimulants, and of course the over use of exercise as the brain of the young man sort to compete.
Now as I watch the rise and fall of my chest I wonder at its longevity, it's fundamental necessity, it's simplicity when compared to the emotional clap trap the brain and its pal the mind has concocted. Between them no mountain was too high, no river too broad, no option too far and the poor old body had no say in the matter.
Now it's the bodies turn, the limits are clear the options are controlled by the feedback.
Arthritic joints, lungs which work 50% on a good day all tell their tail of a redundancy in the not too distant future.
Recently I become an organ donor. Having compared by ageing bits to a worn out water-pump I wonder what they will consider of use. I can see him now holding the organ up to the light, squeezing it to gage its texture. 

The only really useful bit is tucked away in the cerebral cortex, the bit that kicks into life at 6.00am every morning and starts the blog.