I never had a go cart growing up. I never had a trampoline which is good because not only did I not know right from wrong, I did not know up from down or left from right. I would have killed myself on a trampoline. I was a pole vaulter and that was dangerous enough. I learned to pole vault without a soft pit to land in. I could always get Bobby to catch me but only about twice and then he was sore. A gogo buggy would have been sweet although I would have ended up a mechanic or a welder giving away services for next to nothing like a tramp on a meth binge. Only Lucifer's minions and other welders know what the hell is going on under that welding hood and they are not talking. I am guilty of asking the mechanic to "just check this and adjust that" and expecting not to have to pay for it. I am cheap and abrupt. We could never afford a go-cart.
I venture that 93 percent of all metal workers, mechanics and welders had a scoot car while growing up. Where as, only 3 percent of accountants had rabbit runners when they were young. (78 percent of accountants chewed the erasers off of all of the pencils in the first grade) A go cart seems to say "ride me" but those words are muffled by all the rattling and it actually says "fix me". I should have know this because our household had a buggy about ten years ago. The wild riders and steep ditches finished it off. The kids did not want to ride it any more with only three wheels and no brakes. Imagine that. I said, "brakes smakes, just lean on the axle, it will stop!" Did I tell you, I bought a welding device last year. Well, the helmet cost more than the welder and these cheap lightening bolts in a box do not come with instruction manuals so all I have done really is attach a fork to a pole and make a bolt stick up where there should not be a bolt. Ignoring the burns on my fingers and my retina, it is way cooler than the dentist dremel attachment for the chain saw.
As a parent, I feel that I should give my child the tools and toys to create a healthful, safe environment to investigate the dangers and pitfalls of adolescent life. A machete, a whip and a go-cart work toward that end. A pet wolverine or Tasmanian Devil would also work but they are endangered species and smell funny. Within the first week of demolition derby, the cart will break. The industry calls it a "break in period"(No Duh) where you are not supposed to stress the engine too much. This new money pit does not have a tachometer, a speedometer or a pedometer. It does have a sphinctometer which monitors the amount of money your parents have to pull out of their butts to pay for this most excellent of gifts. The break in period is an industry term which is completely meaningless. I remember a Volkswagen dealer telling me (back in the old days 1980), "Drive this Bug easy for five hundred miles and then you can run the piss out of it. Curtis Lowe, the local expert on most things fun who lived under the sea grapes just north of the pier told me "If an ass-rocket last a year, it will last ten". I was half way home before I realized he was talking about a go cart and not a girl.
After watching my son drive through the trees and around the house I waived him in to the pit for a little instruction. "Son, believe it or not, this thing is dangerous". He was not listening so I said, "Try this, give it just a little gas and run in to that fence over there". To my surprise he did it. As he accelerated too much into the fence, all I could think about was the obvious fact that he was actually listening to what I said. He did not break the go cart, his ribs will be a little sore and the cut on his lip will heal in a few days. "Son, take it easy on this thing for a few days and then Go Baby Go!
I venture that 93 percent of all metal workers, mechanics and welders had a scoot car while growing up. Where as, only 3 percent of accountants had rabbit runners when they were young. (78 percent of accountants chewed the erasers off of all of the pencils in the first grade) A go cart seems to say "ride me" but those words are muffled by all the rattling and it actually says "fix me". I should have know this because our household had a buggy about ten years ago. The wild riders and steep ditches finished it off. The kids did not want to ride it any more with only three wheels and no brakes. Imagine that. I said, "brakes smakes, just lean on the axle, it will stop!" Did I tell you, I bought a welding device last year. Well, the helmet cost more than the welder and these cheap lightening bolts in a box do not come with instruction manuals so all I have done really is attach a fork to a pole and make a bolt stick up where there should not be a bolt. Ignoring the burns on my fingers and my retina, it is way cooler than the dentist dremel attachment for the chain saw.
As a parent, I feel that I should give my child the tools and toys to create a healthful, safe environment to investigate the dangers and pitfalls of adolescent life. A machete, a whip and a go-cart work toward that end. A pet wolverine or Tasmanian Devil would also work but they are endangered species and smell funny. Within the first week of demolition derby, the cart will break. The industry calls it a "break in period"(No Duh) where you are not supposed to stress the engine too much. This new money pit does not have a tachometer, a speedometer or a pedometer. It does have a sphinctometer which monitors the amount of money your parents have to pull out of their butts to pay for this most excellent of gifts. The break in period is an industry term which is completely meaningless. I remember a Volkswagen dealer telling me (back in the old days 1980), "Drive this Bug easy for five hundred miles and then you can run the piss out of it. Curtis Lowe, the local expert on most things fun who lived under the sea grapes just north of the pier told me "If an ass-rocket last a year, it will last ten". I was half way home before I realized he was talking about a go cart and not a girl.
After watching my son drive through the trees and around the house I waived him in to the pit for a little instruction. "Son, believe it or not, this thing is dangerous". He was not listening so I said, "Try this, give it just a little gas and run in to that fence over there". To my surprise he did it. As he accelerated too much into the fence, all I could think about was the obvious fact that he was actually listening to what I said. He did not break the go cart, his ribs will be a little sore and the cut on his lip will heal in a few days. "Son, take it easy on this thing for a few days and then Go Baby Go!
Great first post of the year!
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