give it more throttle you bloody c**t

¡oyen mucha! zanman did something today that tons of people do everyday but the difference is...i have what i think is a funny story to go along with it. i learned to ride a motorbike today at a local mototour outfitter here in antigua. the bike i had somewhat resembled this one. (i should have some pics soon on my site) the lesson itself is more or less your everyday garden variety anecdote chock full of stalling out, leaving the turn signal on, and locking up that rear break a bit...but the imagination of this prodigal student is something else. my instructor, a friendly welsh gentleman with what i thought was a thick australian accent could not have been more helpful and insightful. he did have a substantial cranial scar on his shaved head that made me think he knew what he was talking about, it also made me feel less like a moron for wearing my helmet with sun visor. (i was like the ricky williams of cobblestone dirtbiking) anywho, david was patient, professional and polite in the education process. (i think there were a few other P's to success including Poise, Personality, A Positive Mental Attitude, (im)press the customer, Primp Always, Positivity, Please Don't Flush Sanitary Towels Down the Toilet, Phreeze Plenty of Ice, Placate, Posture, Pomp and Circumstance, Pterodactyls, Good Dinosaurs to Mention to Kids, Patriotism, Pepper and Professionalism. i'm sorry i thought of about 5, then had to look up the rest, classic!)

ok, so everything went great. the lesson lasted about 4 hours. but all the while, i was remembering back to when i was learning how to drive for the first time in my dad's standard F-150. 2nd! 3rd! Clutch, Clutch! all gruff, resonant commands that still echo throughout my subconscious to this day. my dad was an excellent teacher, but psychologically reduced me to a skittish cat that gets beaten with a bat if he gets to close to the furniture. most of you know me to not be the most patient individual, and today, no exception ...after a few consecutive stalls, i was beside myself with anger. i looked up at david and he didn't appear disappointed or frustrated. the weird thing was i kinda felt disappointed. why wasn't this guy more like pops?

i actually laughed out loud after imagining my dad getting on my ass with a thick southern uk argot and not holding back with the expletives. "godammit! if you run over one more cone you can forget any more lessons, you can also kiss college goodbye, now chop bloody chop mate!" i relaxed a bit after this imagery. i suppose if this was s.o.p., this guy wouldn't have a job, but it really did have me wanting the abuse, some really rough feedback, i felt like like robin givens moonwalking back into the arms of iron mike after a decision loss in the early 90´s. all and all, i got the basics down. i think with a full day's practice i'd be just one dennis hopper sidekick away from easy ridin' central america style. vrroom!