I'm a fuddy-duddy, at least that's what I've been told. So, thinking it meant good-looking and funny I didn't think another thing about it. That was until my wife informed me that it meant old-fashioned, narrow-minded and that she meant it as an insult.
Obviously to some people I am not the "fun, cool guy," so I decided that I would have to change. I was determined to be the anti-fuddy-duddy.
That is when I heard about "ghost riding the whip" -- a stunt in which a driver gets out of his car and dances around on top of the slowly moving vehicle to a thumping hip-hop beat. Now normally I would have something to say about this insane activity, but apparently it is becoming quite a fad among fans of hip-hop music (OK it really isn't music but I'll pretend it is for this column). So if it is the cool thing, then I'm on board.
I carefully planned my first attempt at "ghost riding the whip." I read articles where two brilliant people were killed. One after his head slammed into a parked car while hanging out the window and another who fell off the top of his car and hit his head. I watched numerous attempts people had filmed and posted on YouTube. I researched and found the dos and don'ts. It was time.
So I put on my baggy jeans that sagged so much my Superman boxers were sticking out the top. I found a "wife-beater" and put it on. Then I put my hat on cockeyed and I felt I was ready.
Next I chose my vehicle. I passed on my car because, well, I didn't want to wreck it. Next, I tried to get my wife's car, but she would have none of it. That is when I settled on my lawn mower.
I know, I know. It's not as sexy as one of those little SUVs with the big speakers, but I was taking baby steps.
So I hopped on my lawn mower and swung it into the back yard, hoping nobody was watching. I put it into gear and cranked up the Village People. That's right, the Village People, because if you don't start dancing to "YMCA" then you are never going to dance.
As I set the lawn mower's speed I prepared for my leap off of the speeding grass cutter that I would work into my dance moves. Of course, as everyone knows if you get off of the seat of a riding lawn mower the engine shuts down. That was posing a problem.
That is when I decided to stand on the seat to get my groove on. Standing on the seat of the speeding mower, Superman boxers visible to world as I dance to "YMCA" I felt like, well, I felt like a fool. But I was "ghost riding the whip."
Well, until the mower crashed into the house and I was sent flying. Ha! Who's the fuddy-duddy now?