When I was five years old my grandpa took over babysitting duties from my parents for a few weeks while they were overseas. The first thing he did was put his leather aviator hat on my little noggin. Then he took me to see his new Honda hatchback.
It was 6 AM, and we just had breakfast. He put me in the passenger seat. Back then, people didn’t wear seat belts, and booster seats were a luxury rarely seen in the streets of Taipei.
At first, he was cautious about things. But then we came upon the main thoroughfare that threaded through the presidential monuments — an eight lane way that ran straight for about a mile. It was dotted with government buildings and had ceremonial guards with loaded rifles stationed at City Hall and Parliament. That early in the morning, the streets were abandoned and the guards were half asleep. He couldn’t resist it. It must have looked just like the start of a runway at the aerodrome. He gunned the engine when the light turned green.
I clutched the dashboard, jumped out of the seat, my little hands shaking. He made the gear changes deliberately. In 80 seconds we ran out of road.
- originally 15 Jan 15
No comments:
Post a Comment