Competent, well-trained student reacts without thought. Interlocking, interdependent, multiplex daisy-chain of yes/no decisions, once programmed into subconscious, form automatic “combat computer.” Conditioned reflexes evaluate degree of threat, determine quality of response. All takes place too quickly for conscious thought, formation of don’t-hurt/hurt/hurt-lots/kill intent.
(Which explains why throwing surprise mock punch at karate student, especially relative beginner, such folly: Newly keyed-in responses imperfectly integrated; subconscious misjudges seriousness of threat, overreacts. Before playful intent apparent to cerebrum, foolish acquaintance has paid price. Particularly risky game if done quickly — hurrying even most proficient of masters surefire ticket to own funeral.)
At this stage, however, all proceeds with deliberation, precision. Though weak, am able to perform necessary instruction. And drilling with Adam of immeasurable benefit to own condition: Each day can feel strength returning; body ever more ready to respond to demands.
And while lack even semblance of combat-readiness thus far, my response speed, accuracy, power have Adam’s complete attention. Demonstrated in beginning that, slowed and weakened as I am, he cannot land blow of any kind; can block anything he throws, hand or foot; don’t even look rushed. Yet can touch him anywhere, anytime, with any limb, despite his best efforts.
Brooded initially about effect on Adam’s psyche (Momma Foster’s caution again) of revealing how far beyond him I am in combat skills, but proved needless concern: If sensitive about being bested by “mere female,” conceals it well; responds to challenge like Thoroughbred to touch of whip — most competitive soul have ever met! Uniform reaction to every demonstrated weakness (after eyes grow round) has been to knuckle down, do flat-out damnedest to match me.
And know from own lessons: Demonstrated superiority necessary for effective teaching: Student’s appreciation of instructor’s prowess must approach level of awe. Progress in karate matter of conquering own frontiers. Regularly necessary to issue outrageous pronouncements calculated to hype student’s self-confidence (subliminal autosuggestion one of karate instructor’s most effective tools) to enable performance exceeding then-assumed limitations. For as each new threshold crossed, matters little whether task once impossible (as well may have been, without overstimulated neuromuscular responses): Karate, at journeyman levels, hinges at least as much on psychology as finely honed physiology.
Felt good to get back into training. And better to have sparring partner. Doing us both good: Adam enjoying workouts; benefit to me simply incalculable.
Of disadvantages, only two immediately apparent: One, believe it or not, appetite actually increased (compounding Adam’s awe!). And two, between meals, drills, sleep constantly…!
Good night, Posterity.
Preserve me from well-meaning innocents…! Naïveté on this scale cannot be coincidentaclass="underline" Creator Himself must have planted Adam in my path together with circumstances mandating adoption.
Follow: “You know, Candy,” he began this evening as we finished dinner, “I’ve been thinking…” (and cosmos trembled) “…you’re going to be fit enough to travel pretty soon now.”
“True.”
“Well, I’ve been looking over your van…”
“And…?”
“It’s small. Three of us living in that little thing will go mad.”
“It’s not so bad,” I assured him. “It’s certainly not as roomy and comfortable as living here, and it will be more crowded with you along; but it’s adequate, once you get the knack of how to use what space there is, and when to spill outside for cooking, dressing, bathing, and whatnot.”
“If you say so.” Dubiously. “But,” — hopefully — “we do have an alternative, if you’re interested.”
Was; so Adam led way to garage. First time there since coma. Impressive as rest of home. Could have stored Daddy’s house in there, too. Several times. With TV mast erected.
Also much taken with contents: astonishing variety of automotive toys. Lamborghinis are neat. Especially in red. Especially that red. Ferraris not bad either. Nor Maseratis. Nor Porsches. Never had much use for Lincolns, Cadillacs, limousines generally (bulky, clumsy, inefficient things — besides, who wants to be driven everywhere?); on other hand, Rolls (es?) could grow on one (is such a thing as elegance, after all).
But Adam brushed past four-wheel jewelry to far (perhaps “distant” more appropriate adjective) corner where stood what I took, at first glance, for garage wall. Wasn’t. Goodness…
“This is how we traveled before,” he announced, with proud sweep of hand. “Neat, huh? It’s a converted Greyhound.” Surely was; large, economy size; obviously capable of sleeping, feeding, entertaining regiment. Vehicle was Adam’s mother’s solution to visiting constituents statewide without having to (shudder) sleep in motels. Appointments bordered on sybaritic.
“And you have to see the kitchen,” he enthused. “It duplicates the one in the house, in miniature. Anything I can cook there, I can make here: It’s got everything!”
Telling point; mouth started watering at mere thought of Adam’s cooking.
However…
Silly thing was 40 feet long! Twelve feet tall, not counting air-conditioners jutting from roof. Eight feet wide. Barely six inches ground clearance (got down, looked). And of three axles, obvious that only forward tandem driven; rearmost merely load-bearing idler; very front, steering only. Plus, GVW plate listed maximum weight at 16 tons!
Cast about briefly for means to pop Adam’s bubble tactfully — was so proud of self, solution. Still merrily burbling on about juggernaut’s wonderful qualities; taking my silence for enthusiasm, no doubt. Pondered variety of alternate approaches without satisfying requirements.
Finally concluded no help for it; might as well plunge ahead, rain on parade without sugar-coating — disappointments exist in present-day reality; must face sooner, later. Perhaps dose of disillusionment good thing; maybe yanking rug from under mobile Pleasure Dome’s apparent usefulness helpful in conveying rational perspective of real-world conditions.
Opened with slow curve: “Boy, this is great!” Then fast break: “But something this size must have a really powerful winch to get across soft terrain. Where did they hide it?”
Adam ground to halt; looked puzzled, also faintly offended. “They don’t put winches on a top-of-the-line land yacht,” he explained, with slightly exaggerated patience.
“Oh, I see; all three axles powered then — must be just about unstoppable. Good thing; sure would hate to try to ford a stream otherwise — without a winch.”
Adam hesitated, looked unsure for first time. So reminded him, while off balance, of tribulations set forth in Vol. II. Asked if cared to try balancing across railroad trestle in this, as I did van. Agreed was not enticing notion.
And that was that. Adam nobody’s dummy. Chief failing consists of important gaps in background; ignorance of things obvious to anyone but cloistered genius reared amidst wealth, excess material advantages. Given hint, moves on quickly to grasp problem himself.
But still not satisfied with prospect of three of us living in van; determined to find solution. (Hope successful — really will miss that kitchen…)