Gino, Susan, and I were sitting in the garage on a hot Wednesday sunset cooling off on the couch and chairs from old Don’s apartment, talking about retirement plans. We kind of went in a circle sharing our aspirations.

All three of us partially want some mystery in our futures. We want to let the retirement void play upon our instincts and interests until they lead us to activities to fill those idle times, involvements that we currently cannot perceive. The rest of our brains want to know in exact detail how we intend to get by, including a Plan B and C.

Gino leads an austere, singular life now. He rents a three-room apartment in Philadelphia from his cousin. He has no mate, and doesn’t want one. He has no television or computer, no fancy phone. Doing carpentry is both his career and his hobby.

He may live alone, but he is surrounded by a large, loving family and friends across the country who would eagerly open their doors to him if he needed help, as would we. He lived with us for more than five years. He’s welcome back. Years from now he can be feeble and alone along with us.

Gino’s retirement plan is to continue to do small remodel jobs until he falls over. As his expenses decline with age milestones like 65, he intends to work less. He wants jobs from friends who are not in a hurry and want it done right.

Gino prefers a long morning tea and some serious personal time before he puts his dirty boots on. He can’t be rushed by anyone, including me. Once his work day begins, it goes until dark.

If his phone rings while he’s working, however, and it’s a friend with a need to talk, Gino will walk off the job and talk as long as necessary. He’ll stroll up and down the sidewalk for an hour, ear pressed to the receiver, listening intently, while I wait patiently holding the drill. Friends are more important than deadlines. The beauty of the system is that he is so skilled he can build in a day what would take others three days. (Last week we installed and finished a hardwood floor and a sliding glass door on a Saturday afternoon.)

In retirement Gino wants to work enough to pay his bills. Beyond that, his interests are farming and bee keeping. He’s already enrolled in several courses at no charge because he’s repairing a bee hut and rescuing a barn in return.

Susan is still in a quandary. She hasn’t settled on any time-devouring interests beyond being the best grandmother, mother and wife one can be. She’s all about the family. She doesn’t do scrapbooks or quilts. We’re all working hard to give her ideas.

She keeps talking about “working” here or “working” there, part time, and such. As Morgan Freeman says in “The Shawshank Redemption,” she’s been institutionalized. By working her entire life, she doesn’t know how to let it go. Next school year, her last, we will begin the weaning process. She will work only 60 percent of the day. Perhaps in small bites she can find ways to fill her hours.

She wants to travel. She loves road trips around the USA. We’ve been across the country three times via northern, central and southern routes. She wants to live out of her Highlander. I’m all for that. Currently, we’ve changed our minds on the camping trailer as too much work; we’re now thinking hotel rooms, cabins, bungalows, B&Bs and a backup tent stashed with the spare tire.

My plan is to first build myself a thinking chair. I will build at least one that fits my back, butt and build precisely and deck it out with amenities so I don’t have to get up. I will go far beyond the mere cup holder and footrest.

It will have compartments and pull-outs and telescopic capabilities. The seat will have a trap door leading to a pan of talcum powder and an under-bun cooler. Arm rests will transform depending on what I’m doing — eating, drinking, resting, sleeping.

It’ll have a spring-loaded roll-out lap blanket attached to the side for those chilly evenings. The other side will have a collapsible fan-bladed windshield attached to a prehensile arm. It will be lighted, wired and bluetoothed for sound, sun and sun screen. It will turn 360 degrees and tilt to 45 degrees. On the back I’ll mount a bug zapper.

With hydraulic legs I can raise the chair to look over the roof of my house at the bay and meteor showers. I’m considering catapulting features in case it is ever lost or stolen. Perhaps I’ll rig up an Arduino or Raspberry Pi and control my house from my big chair.

My core intent is to sit in this mother of all chairs once it’s built for as long as it takes for me to figure out what the heck to do with myself.

If it works, I’ll build one for Susan. Or maybe I’ll just build a love seat.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.