Original post date: October 31, 2008
On my way home from picking up my laundry in Antigua, Guatemala, I ran into the hotel owner´s son playing with his new toy. He was revving the engine of a souped up 4×4 ATV (yes, in the middle of the town).
Without thinking, laundry in hand, I hopped on and said: Arriba! Arriba! Andale!!!
We took off down the cobblestone streets, bobbing and weaving, feeling every pot hole and missing stone. We hit a huge bump and my laundry flew out of my hand and almost hit a dog. The smell of exhaust filling my nostrils, my bare head knocking against is fancy pants helmet.
Over the hum of the engine the conversation went a little something like this…
Me (yelling): Dude, how long have you had this thing? (Barely missed another dog)
Him (yelling back): About 7 months! (A lady on the sidewalk pulls her child out of the way)
Me (with no hope): Do you have a license??
Him (no hesitation): Nope
Me (fearfully): How old do you have to be to drive one of these??
Him: 16
Me (still yelling): And how old are you??
Him: 13 …
…I supposed rules (and bones) are meant to be broken…
