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As I wrote last week, in order to get a motorcycle endorsement added to my Panamanian driver’s license I have to attend a driving school and pass a written and hands-on test. Coughing up $40 to the ATTT isn’t an option. And as I wrote last week the closest driving school, which is literally only a couple of door away from the licensing bureau, doesn’t handle motorcycle (or as they say here in Panama, simply “moto”) instruction I had to go check out another place that does.

This morning I went to a place called Centro de Capacitación de Conductors Aldo. Fortunately it is only a block off the route my bus takes on its way to the terminal so access isn’t a problem. When I got to the school class was in session. The two students were watching a film. The instructor, Aldo, must have been the inspiration for Jaba the Hut. He was that big. Naturally, I had to do everything in Spanish, and I only had to consult my dictionary once when I wanted to say that I thought having to do everything in Spanish was going to be a :challenge” (desáfio). Again, I was told that I would do all right. Of course both people that told me that were looking for me to sign up for the classes and give them some money.

The “theoretical” part of the school is three half-days long. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, with classes starting at 8:30 in the morning. Then there is a five hour hands-on practice on a scooter Saturday and Sunday afternoons at four. After you take the written exam, which you have to repeat at the licensing bureau, there is a 15 day while your certificate is processed by some office in Panama City. During that time I’ll go get my physical exam which is required because I’m over 70 years old. The exam has to be done by either a gerontologist or an internist. Fortunately my primary care doctor at the Hospital Chiriqui program I’ve been enrolled in for the last three years is an internist so I’ll use him. Nice guy and he sort of speaks English in the same way I sort of speak Spanish so we get along. Actually it’s a good thing because it’s been three years since I’ve had a physical.

Total cost for the program is $130 plus the physical, but through the hospital insurance plan I get reimbursed 75% of the cost and another 15% because I’m a “jubilado.” (Spanish word for old fart.) Even though it will seriously cut into the time I have to surf internet porn each day, I’ll be starting the school next Monday. Stay tuned.

In order for me to get a motorcycle endorsement put on my Panamanian driver’s license there are several hoops I have to jump through. 1) I have to complete a course at a driving school 2) I have to pass a written examination (in Spanish) 3) I have to have a letter from a doctor, either a gerontologist or an internist saying I’m physically and mentally fit to drive (of course being nearly 71 one has to question the mental state of anyone that old wanting to ride a motorcycle) 4) I have to pass a practical hands-on test on the motorcycle. There are a couple of other things like a hearing and eye test that you can’t study for and shell out $40.

I’ve been going out and practicing on my bike down the road a ways at a new, and mostly vacant, housing development. Doing a lot of stopping and starting and making right hand turns and staying in the proper lane without going over the center line. I’ve watched dozens of YouTube videos about practical motorcycle exams that are given in the United States. They include weaving between cones in a sort of slalom course, driving figure eights, making slow-speed U turns, making fast stops, etc. It all looks rather daunting.

Last week I stopped by the driving school located at the Chiriqui Mall where the driving license office is also located. I wanted to ask them some more questions about the practical driving test. It turns out that they don’t offer the motorcycle study course at that school. The instructor, though, took me outside and we met with a gentleman who was grading the aspirants for licensing today. He spoke English and told me that I had to go to a different school and filled me in on where it’s located. I then asked him what I needed to know in order to take the practical, “driving” portion of the test.

“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “but it’s been about 30 years.”

“Do you have a motorcycle?”

“Yes,” I told him.

“Then it shouldn’t be any problem. Don’t worry about it.”

I asked him about doing the weaving and U turns and all that stuff. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We need to know about your equilibrium.”

“Okay,” says I to myself. “I’m going to need to do a lot more practicing.”

But I stuck around for a bit while two people took their automobile tests which, when compared with tests in the States, was a joke. Then a young lad put on a helmet and was going to do his motorcycle test. Great! I’ll get to see what they put him through and then I’ll know what I need to work on.

Below is a photo of what his test consisted of:

This is no joke. This is what he had to do. You can see he started out in the top right corner. Went in a straight line and made a left hand turn, another straight line to the next road, then a left hand turn into one of the parking sections where he rode down to a cone and made one circle then went back, in a straight line to the road, another left turn and ended up where he’d started from.

Wait a minute!

“That’s it? That’s his test?” I asked the examiner.

“Yes, that’s it,” he said.

No slalom weaving. No tight right turns, which is far more important, I think, than being able to make a sweeping left turn. I guess you could consider circling a cone to be a test of one’s ability to make a U turn, though. And no fast stopping test.

It sort of reminded me of the practical driving test I took in Fort Lauderdale when I returned to the States after having been gone for nearly four years, during which time my driver’s license had expired. At that time I’d been driving for 35 years. I drove up to where the examiner was standing at the curb outside of the DMV office. He got in to the passenger’s seat with his clip board and said,

“See that empty spot by the curb up ahead?”

“Yes,” I said, noticing a spot some 40 feet or so from where we sat idling.

“Pull in there.”

So, I checked if any cars were coming up behind me. It was clear. I engaged the turn signal as the book says you’re supposed to do and pulled out into the lane. I drove the 40 or so feet and parallel parked the car in the empty slot. The examiner put down a few check marks on his clip board, handed me the sheet, put his hand on the door handle and said, “go park the car wherever there’s a spot,” gesturing to the parking lot over on the left, “and take this inside.” The whole test took under three minutes.

That’s what it looks like the practical motorcycle test is going to be like here. We’ll see. I’m going to go to the school next week.

Last year I bought a motorcycle for my 70th birthday.

In retrospect it seemed to be a huge mistake. Why? Well, I discovered that I needed to get an endorsement on my license in order to legally ride the thing. Why not just ride anyway? Down here the “Transitos,” special police dedicated entirely to transportation, set up road blocks all over the place, daily ,and check people’s licenses. An acquaintance who rides his motorcycle daily said that while he had always been waved through the road blocks for a couple of years the Transitos had demanded his license several times in the last few months. But the places I wanted to ride are mostly far off the beaten track and the chances of being stopped are few. However, there are a few places where I could still get nabbed.

When I got my Panamanian driver’s license I made a mistake by being honest. The girl taking my information asked me if I had a motorcycle in Florida and I said “no.” If I’d said I did then I would have gotten the endorsement and there really wouldn’t have been any way for her to verify or refute it. And I would have walked out with a license allowing me to drive a car and a motorcycle.

In order to get the endorsement there are quite a few hoops I have to jump through. First, I’d have to go to a driving school. Naturally it would be in Spanish. Then I’d have to take a driving test, again, in Spanish. At the time, while I was able to do a bit better than “okay” in Spanish I didn’t have the confidence that I’d be able to pass a test.

Next is a “practical” test of actually demonstrating the fact that I can ride a motorcycle. Finally, since I hit the magic number, 70, I’m also required to have a doctor, either a gerontologist or an internist, give me a physical to attest to my physical and mental acuity to drive a motorcycle. That makes one wonder if, in fact, a 70 year old is mentally sound simply because they want to ride a motorcycle in the first place.

It just seemed like so much of a hassle that I didn’t want to deal with I put the bike up for sale. It wasn’t a big success. Only one person actually came to look at it. Several others expressed an interest but never showed up to see the motorcycle. So there it sat, unused but not unloved.

As I’d sit at the bus stop people on motorcycles would pass by and I was envious and think about the orange rocket sitting idle at home. Last week I made a trip into David to do some shopping at Pricesmart, our local equivalent of Costco. It sits next to the Chirqui Mall and I knew there was a driving school there, so I stopped in to talk to them. Of course I did this in Spanish which, while a long, long, way from being fluent, is a lot better than it was last year. The cost of the school is $125 and new classes start every Monday. I told the lady that I was a bit worried about having to take the examination in Spanish. She showed me a page of their multiple-guess test and scanning a couple of the questions it didn’t seem all that difficult. And having talked with her for nearly a half hour in Spanish when I said I thought it might be possible to pass, she said, IN ENGLISH, “You’ll do all right.”

I have a copy of the “Manual del Conductor y Reglamento de Tránsito.” I’ve been going through it recently and have added quite a few new Spanish words to my vocabulary. For example in now know that a ruedo is a wheel; a carril is a lane; I know the difference between an autopista and an avenida, and that a remolque is a trailer.

And as far as getting the letter from a doctor, it’s probably a good idea since it’s nearly three years since I’ve had a physical.

Last week I saddled up for the first time in about seven months and went around the neighborhood practicing my starts and stops and turning from a stop at an intersection, a cruce. Sure, it’s illegal but it’s going to be necessary in order to pass the “practical” exam and to be one step up on practicing at the school. They rent motorcycles to practice on a closed course and to take the exam, but I want to have a leg up before I do that.

I’m going to spend the coming week going over the manual and will probably start the school next Monday or the week after that. I’ll keep you up to date.

Well, February is almost over and with it another Black History Month goes in the record book. One thing that’s always disturbed me about Black History Month are the people, and I have to admit, to my chagrin that some of them are my friends, who say in all seriousness, “When’s ‘White History Month?'”

That’s when I say, “Have you ever heard of March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December or January, asshole?”

Not only did blacks get the short end of the stick when they were dragged to the western hemisphere, they also got the short month of the calendar for their contributions to the history of the United States, too.

Three ways of celebrating the same event:

NEW ORLEANS, USA

LAS TABLAS, PANAMA

RIO DE JANIERO, BRAZIL

If it’s just another Tuesday where you live, well, then, you’re a sucker!

Check this out…

http://www.grindtv.com/outdoor/blog/50860/a+hooked+marlin+sinks+a+fishing+boat+well+something+like+that/