Why My Dad's Getting Pink for Christmas
If I'd have thought to bring my camera, the picture I'd have taken would've been one for the ages.
There, just around the corner from what's now my local supermarket, was my dad, sitting on the back of a moped, wearing not just a helmet, but a pink one. And several sizes too small, at that.
"No way!" my brother exclaimed before doubling over. It took him about 20 seconds to stop laughing. "Did you steal that from a baby?"
There was also the kid driving the bike, a Vietnamese dude of about American drinking age who seemed to have skipped puberty -- not only was he all of about 5 feet tall, but he was thinner than bamboo.
My dad, on the other hand ... well, perhaps he said it best a couple days later, when, being led up the sand dunes of Mui Ne by a pack of 10-year-olds who had talked us both into trying their homemade sleds, his belly was poked.
"Yeah, too much rice," he said. "I eat too much rice."
The result was a bike that looked as if it could've done a wheely in first gear. And when my dad put his feet on the back pegs, placed his hands on top of the kid's shoulders and began moving forward, I think it did.
Ahhh, the memories. I've got many from the two weeks my family just spent here. That image of my dad on the bike is especially vivid.
But I still wish I'd have had that camera. My aunt Jackie had hers when my brother got a lift into the city one afternoon. Here's what he looks like in a pink helmet:
There, just around the corner from what's now my local supermarket, was my dad, sitting on the back of a moped, wearing not just a helmet, but a pink one. And several sizes too small, at that.
"No way!" my brother exclaimed before doubling over. It took him about 20 seconds to stop laughing. "Did you steal that from a baby?"
There was also the kid driving the bike, a Vietnamese dude of about American drinking age who seemed to have skipped puberty -- not only was he all of about 5 feet tall, but he was thinner than bamboo.
My dad, on the other hand ... well, perhaps he said it best a couple days later, when, being led up the sand dunes of Mui Ne by a pack of 10-year-olds who had talked us both into trying their homemade sleds, his belly was poked.
"Yeah, too much rice," he said. "I eat too much rice."
The result was a bike that looked as if it could've done a wheely in first gear. And when my dad put his feet on the back pegs, placed his hands on top of the kid's shoulders and began moving forward, I think it did.
Ahhh, the memories. I've got many from the two weeks my family just spent here. That image of my dad on the bike is especially vivid.
But I still wish I'd have had that camera. My aunt Jackie had hers when my brother got a lift into the city one afternoon. Here's what he looks like in a pink helmet:
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