I don’t have a dog in this fight, but I heard something rather profound yesterday.
Get a 1 metre ruler and assume each centimetre is equal to a year. Assuming you get to close to 100 years before curtains, how many centimetres have you got left? My bet is nowhere near enough.
If you can, take the package and run, go fly something light and fun and real, remember why you got into flying in the first place, remember the smell of 100LL and hot oil. Talk copious amounts of **** in and around hangars. Try and pass on some war stories and knowledge to the beginners, even take them flying. Its an awesome way to waste a weekend, I assure you.
Or go and be a grotty yachtty, bob up and down the east coast living on the smell of an oily rag. Or go and be a grey nomad (but please dont). Or take up woodworking, or cottage gardening. Or write your memoirs, something for your children and grandchildren to read after you’re gone. Or get big dark/reflective glasses and become a professional ornithologist.
I am hopefully, just over a third of my way through and I already feel shortchanged on length (of life that is, well on everything if I’m being honest). I wish you all the best in your decision making, may you make the best decision for a happy life.
j3