Ah, life’s mistakes.  I think I may have made a big one. I didn’t mean to exactly. I just wasn’t thinking about what I was doing or what the consequences of my decision might end up being. But oh, to have those three minutes back….

Last week I taught the guys how to play “Punchbuggy”… 

Understand something here…playing “Punchbuggy” in a country where you see three, maybe four, Volkswagens in a day is one thing. Playing it in a country where one goes by on average, every two minutes…is something else entirely! I was playing with a guy the other day and we each broke thirty five VW’s…in just over an hour. Do the math…my arm still hurts.

For those of you who are not aware of the intricacies of this game, it’s simple…when you see a Volkswagen (ie. “Punchbuggy”) while driving, you yell “Punchbuggy green (for example) No return!”

And then you punch whoever happens to be closest to you. It’s a fun little driving game with no real life repercussions. Or so you’d think…

First, you have to take into account what it’s like driving here. Taxi and bus drivers who are completely unaware of the fact that there might actually be other people on the road with them. Oh, you need to turn left at the next intersection and you’re in the right hand lane. No problem. Just go careening across four lanes of traffic. Your lane of traffic is slowing down and mine isn’t? That doesn’t seem fair, does it. So just lane change a foot and a half in front of my vehicle. No problem. I know where I’m going when I die…

Then you have to factor in the guys I work with here. Probably the most competitive group of little turkeys…uh, brothers in Christ…that I’ve ever known. They HATE to lose. But then again, so do I. So we make a great combination.

The only caveat we’ve made to the fact that I need to drive…more or less…is that we play in my native tongue. So they have to know the colour of the Volkswagen in English. It’s the worst moment ever when I can hear them whispering “How do you say azul in English?” and I can’t see whatever VW they’ve spotted. I know what’s coming, but I can’t do anything about it.

And we usually start off nice and friendly (as do most games with guys) with little punches on the shoulder. But then the excitement builds and the aforementioned competition kicks in…and we all walk away with bruises. My faviourite moment so far was when one of the guys was so focused on getting the colour right, that when he saw a VW he just yelled, “BLUE!” and nothing else.

So I punched him.

Anyhow…like I didn’t have enough problems without half a dozen guys wailing on me while I’m trying to drive.  If it’s ever reported that, sadly, Ken has died in a traffic accident in South America, you can be assured that my last words were, “PUNCHBUGGY WHITE! NO RETURN!”