When I was driving on the highway in Mexico, I suddenly noticed that my tire pressure warning light came on. This handy little invention saved me from changing a flat tire twice before.

But now, on the highway in the middle of nowhere–or so it seemed in my panic when I saw the warning light–I knew I had little time to get to a gas station to check the tires. I didn’t want to have to change a flat on the highway, especially since it had been miles since I saw anything resembling a shoulder where I could pull over.

Luckily, I saw a Pemex gas station a few minutes later. I had the attendant check my tires and he told me that my front driver’s side tire was low on air. Suddenly, I remembered driving into a pothole that swallowed my entire tire in Celaya. Then he pointed out a hole in the sidewall.

When you go to the tire shops in the U.S., damage to the sidewall automatically means that you have to buy a new tire. I asked the attendant if there was a tire repair shop nearby. He told me to keep going a couple of more blocks until I saw the sign that read, “Vulca.” As I pulled up, I didn’t see any new tires. I pointed to the hole in the sidewall and asked the vulcanizador if he could repair it. He nodded and immediately jacked up my car and removed the tire. He took the tire off the rim and patched the hole from the inside. He repaired my flat in about ten minutes. And he only charged me thirty pesos, which was about three dollars.

I was so grateful to have averted changing a flat tire that I tipped him twenty pesos. We were both extremely happy by the transaction. Well, I drove more than two-thousand miles on that repaired tire. I’m still driving on it! That makes me wonder about all those previous new tires I bought because I was told that sidewall damage couldn’t be repaired!

I don’t know why, but I really loved Kung Fu Panda! And I got to see it at the movie theaters three times! It got a lot of pre-release publicity because Jack Black starred in it. The early previews at the theaters didn’t exactly make the movie look all that good. Then, I saw Jack Black plugging the movie on the Jay Leno show. I laughed when Jack Black, with a serious face, announced that the movie was based on a true story. When the movie was released, my sons wanted to see it, so I took them. I really wasn’t expecting much. But I loved it! I laughed throughout the movie because it was genuinely funny. And it was about kung fu. I still love martial arts movies–dating back to my high school days when I went to the movie theaters downtown to see four martial arts movies for a dollar. Even though Kung Fu Panda was merely a cartoon, it was historically and culturally accurate in many respects. However, since it was a comedy and a cartoon, you had to suspend belief about many events, or you wouldn’t enjoy it.

Well, we saw the movie in the U.S. when it opened. Then we went to Mexico. In Celaya, my cousins Carmen and Ignacio took us to the mall, which was newer and much nicer than the malls by my house. I was surprised to see that they had a multi-screen movie theater there. My sons wanted to see a movie there. I had warned them earlier that the movie might be in Spanish only, and perhaps they might have English subtitles. I had not been to a movie theater in Mexico for about thirty years. Well, some movies were dubbed in Spanish, and some were in English with Spanish subtitles. Most of the shows sold out. We ended up seeing Kung Fu Panda. It was dubbed in Spanish with no subtitles. My sons didn’t really like watching the movie in Spanish because they didn’t understand much of it, and they didn’t remember all the details from when we saw it in English.

I enjoyed watching it in Spanish because it had been a long time since I had seen a movie in Mexico. And the translation was done very well. Of course, Jack Black was no longer play Po, the kung fu panda. It was a famous Mexican comedian whose name I no longer remember. He was very funny as Po. The audience really loved the movie and laughed at the same parts as American audiences. I guess that’s the test of universal humor. It translates well. My favorite translation was in the scene where Po enters the training room with the sparring equipment, and we see the five kung fu masters training and avoiding getting injured or killed by the machinery. Then Po ends up on this machinery, and by sheer luck and naivete, he survives. At one point, his legs are split wide open and he is about to take a shot to the groin (in a PG movie!). Po says, “My tenders!” and the audience laughed uproariously. So, in Mexico, when this scene was coming up, I wondered how they would translate it. Well, instead of saying, “My tenders!”, he says, “¡Los panditas!” Well, in Spanish this was much funnier than the English version. Los panditas translates to something like “the little pandas.” Po is referring to his future progeny: My babies! Even the children laughed at this joke.

Well, while in Celaya, I met three of my uncles from the U.S. My Uncle Manuel decided to take all the children to see a movie. There were fourteen children and twelve adults who went to the mall to see the movie. And we all piled into four compact cars! We all waited while Uncle Manuel bought the movie tickets. Guess what movie we saw. Kung Fu Panda! This time my sons wanted me to sit between them so I could translate for them. My sons enjoyed the movie a little more when I translated it for them. The movie was still funny the third time around.

Sometimes when I think of funny TV shows that I used to watch, I remember them as being funnier or less funny than when I watch them again years later.

I’ve been watching Saturday Night Live for many years ever since the show began airing in 1975. I’ve always loved watching comedy shows because I wanted to learn to be a funny comedian. I can’t say that I ever watched the show religiously because there were stretches when I didn’t always think it was very funny.

I remember my friends telling me how funny it was, but I often disagreed, even when we watched SNL together. I liked everyone on the cast, but a lot of their sketches were just plain stupid. I’m sorry, but I just didn’t like them. The last few years, I started watching SNL again and I found it funny to be much funnier than in the 1970s.

So, I wondered if I my memory was clouded by age. So, this week, as a tribute to George Carlin who died last Sunday at age 71, SNL decided to air their very first show that Carlin hosted. The format of the show was slightly different than that of the present show, but it was more or less the same type of show. It was a refreshing blast from my past. I still found George Carlin funny even though I had heard most of his jokes countless times. To me, he will always be funny.

Andy Kaufman was kind of funny as he played the theme song for Mighty Mouse on a phonograph, although he was much funnier on later appearances. The skits weren’t that funny. But I did enjoy seeing John Belushi, Dan Ackroid, Jane Curtin, and Chevy Chase.

Billy Preston and Janis Ian were the musical guests and wow did I ever have some wonderful flashbacks. Music always reminds of many episodes from my past. All I have to do is listen to the radio and my life flashes before my eyes.

As I watched SNL objectively, I didn’t think the show was very funny, except for a filmed skit “Show Us Your Gun” in which people show their guns to a camera as it drives by. Women pushing baby strollers, little old ladies, and children show off their guns. Two mafia guys almost show their heaters, but then think better of it and keep them in their coats. Everyone seems to be packing, save the traffic cop directing traffic who seems to have forgotten or misplaced his service revolver–and he doesn’t seem to care.

But overall, the show wasn’t all that funny. I started remembering some other scenes and realized that they weren’t funny back then, and they wouldn’t be funny now. Somehow, the show survived.

When my oldest son was born, my wife insisted on naming him David Diego Rodriguez, Jr. I was against this for many reasons (I’ve already written several blog entries on this topic). She won the argument. When our surprise twins were born, she insisted that I name them whatever I wanted. I was incredibly surprised by her decision, but I immediately started thinking of names. Adam immediately came to mind because one of my best friends in grade school was named Adam. I also gave him the middle name of Luis because my brother Joe’s middle name is Luis, and both my father-in-law and brother-in-law were named Louis. Of course, I had to use the Spanish spelling of Luis and not the French. The other twin I named Alejandro because the name was at once biblical, historical, mythical, and popular. I liked the Spanish version of the name because I had been reading several history books written in Spanish in which they referred to Alejandro Magno, or Alexander the Great, as a major influence for Charlemagne and his descendent Carlos V of Spain. For his middle name I chose Daniel because I have both a brother and brother-in-law named Daniel. In addition, I have known many Daniels in my lifetime who were good friends. Thus, the twins were named Alejandro Daniel Rodriguez and Adam Luis Rodriguez, but my wife and I called them Adam and Alex. And so did most people.

However, somehow, they acquired some nicknames that I didn’t particularly like: Coco and Squeaky. My in-laws constantly called them by these nicknames and I would always point out that they should be called Alejandro or Alex and Adam. Coco and Squeaky were unacceptable. This went on for a few months and I never let up on correcting anyone who called my sons by those nicknames. My in-laws started hating me, but I looked at my actions as a way of protecting my sons from schoolyard abuse based on their nicknames. Every time they called my twins Coco or Squeaky, I would correct them, and we occasionally got into shouting matches. I knew that nicknames were trouble for boys when they played with other boys. I had seen it happen when I was a boy and with my older son when he started school. Not that I was against nicknames, but only if they were good and had positive connotations. Eventually, everyone called the twins Adam and Alex. Twelve years later, I don’t think anyone even remembers those nicknames.

When my oldest son was about eleven and the twins were four, my older son’s friends noticed that Alex had the same name as a certain incredibly famous, very skilled professional baseball player. Once, I introduced the twins to his friends as Adam and Alex. One friend thought about it for a while and then pointed to Alex with a look of amazement on his face. He said, “His name is Alex Rodriguez! He has the same name as A-Rod!” That had never even occurred to me because I had never even heard of A-Rod when the twins were born in 1996. When the twins started school, all their friends started calling them A-Rod and soon my oldest son became D-Rod.