38. Pizzas on the A1A

While I was drawing this it was early evening and a series of teenagers on red motor scooters were going up and down the street in front of me while a short, fattish woman with hair like a lego man shouted instructions at them – ‘A little gas, a little break, a little gas a little break a little gas, a little break.’
Then, as if I’d called out, hey who’s related to that motorcycle instructor, a middle aged man came over to me, pointed to the woman and said, ‘That’s my sister. She’s got a whole heap of them motor scooters so she’s teaching my kids to ride ’em.’
Then, because I didn’t know what else to say, I said – ‘I have a proper motorbike at home.’
Then the man, who was wearing shorts but no shirt, put his hands on his hips, turned his attention fully toward me and started to tell me the story of how he’d once had a motorbike.
But luckily, before he was too far in, he got distracted by his sister who had stopped screaming out motorcycle instructions and was now bellowing out information about their evening meal.
‘We’re going to take the scooters out onto A1A,’ she was crying out, ‘we’re gonna go order pizzas. We’re gonna head on down there now and get us some supper underway.’