On the Run from the Japanese Police

So last Wednesday I taught at this Japanese middle school.  And as I was riding home on my midget little scooter, I caught a glimpse of a Japanese motorcycle cop off to my left.  I was cresting a small hill, and he was just kind of sitting there when I cruised past.  I thought for a moment:  Is this cause for concern? and then concluded, No, Ken Seeroi, you are a most excellent driver.

Sure, everyone says that, but I really am.  I know this based upon the large number of cars, trucks, and bikes I’ve demolished.  Well, maybe “demolished” is a bit strong.  Let’s just say “crashed,” or “rendered unusable.”  That sounds a bit better.  But I mean, let’s say you’re going into battle—who’re you gonna want beside you in the trenches?—a pie-faced file clerk who’s driven a desk the whole war, or some William Dafoe-looking dude who’s all scarred and gnarly from scores of battles?  That’s the guy you’d want to ride with, right?  Yet somehow when I explain this to women I meet in bars, they never get it.  It’s just simple logic, really.  Anyway, I’m a good driver, is my point. Continue reading “On the Run from the Japanese Police”