A generation gap and upbringing – column

As current classic enthusiasts, we usually had that generation gap with our parents. A moped friend of mine, after barricading his bedroom door, went to bed with his helmet on. Because his father, head of a Catholic Boys' School, had sworn that his son had to get rid of his long hair. As sixteen-eighteen year olds, we were pleasantly obsessed with mopeds, motorcycles and cars. And to make that our property, we even wanted to work. What we usually did, by the way, is proof that low-paid work was already invented before neo-liberalism reached its full maturity.

Times have changed

Parents are now focused on understanding (or their own lives). And the youth no longer wants to spend a summer to celebrate autumn with their first moped, motorcycle or car. And that could just be a thing of only a few hundred guilders. But you were mobile. You had your freedom. And your chances of scoring with the more interesting modeled sex increased – theoretically.

In today's digital age, that's different

Our son was never attacked by his parents because of his haircut or clothes. He started riding a motorcycle because a 125 cc Hondaatje turned out to be the cheapest transport for a student. He now owns a company car. “Oh it's a Renault. A Qajar I believe.”
Within the senseless indulgence, the daughter received a (new) car for her birthday from acquaintances. Okay, it wasn't a Porsche, but to get really mad at your parents because you don't like the color of the present? Personally, it seems that you can get away with that if you have mastered her educationally after all. Although: a lot of judges nowadays are also women. So that might be a bit more difficult to estimate.

The empowerment of youth may be a great asset

But you grow up by learning. By accepting consequences. For example, I drove on Harderwijkerweg within built-up areas. Next to it is a cycle path that is separated from the road by a different color and interrupted stripes. The Harderwijkerweg is a kind of traffic artery, also for students of the local training facility. In their youthful open-mindedness, these students do not feel dictated by broken lines or other traffic antics. The herd of cyclists therefore rode 'wide'. To prevent accidents, I gave a tiny warning tap on the start button of my Stebel Nautilus, the air horn that bellows loudly at 142 dB(A).

But in this case he didn't make it in the distance

My preventive signal prompted one of the cyclists riding in my lane to raise his arm and give me a big middle finger. If I had been in a car or on my sidecar, he would have gotten away with it. But now I was on my good old Guzzi. I gave some gas and caught up with the fat fingerer. As I passed, I tapped his arm. The smartphone flew through the air and apparently had a very fast connection on the wet asphalt. He moved diagonally in front of me and disappeared under the oncoming traffic. I felt like a content educator. I had another letter placed in the local free local paper. If there is a couple who wanted to talk about a motorcyclist and a missing telephone, they could report this to the Editors. Never heard of it again.

Also read:
- Lake columns
- More stories about classic engines