“Cadillac.”

“Excuse me,” I said, turning to Aiki-Doh!-ka for enlightenment. We were at the edge of the tatami watching the class practice kihon dosa.

“That guy, he’s a Cadillac,” he replied, pointing to an energetic aikidoka on the mat.

“Why do you say that?”

“Every time he stops, he bounces, just like a luxury car from the seventies.”

I was about to say I was trying to forget the seventies, but Aiki was already pointing at someone else, a big guy who was trying to get up after receiving a solid throw. He had a made a significant dent in the mat and was struggling to climb out.

“Ford.”

“Ford?”

“Yeah, Ford. Found on road dead.”

That was an oldy, perhaps even pre-dating the seventies. But I was starting to learn his game. I scanned the dojo, then turned to A-D, pointing at someone on the mat, just as he was doing the same, and we pronounced simultaneously:

“Mack truck!” A big burly guy pounding towards his jyu waza partner.

This went on for a while until the Highway Patrol (Sensei!) told us to move on…

What kind of car are you?

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