“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.
“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?