Orlando, FL 2009: With plenty of previous go-kart experience, Za is raring to go upon his sixteenth birthday. Through many storms and close calls, Za has ironically concerned everybody with his ultra-calmness.

From Trent Ling:

Nearly three years ago, my son Za took me along for one of his routine adventures.  The impression still deepens by the day.  Still a month from getting his official driver’s license, but sporting his own rig, Za finally possessed the means to track down Sugarloaf Mountain, the highest point in “peninsular Florida” (this is how Za talks; I just try to keep up and hang on).  A frontiersman and explorer deep in his core, Za has always exercised his freedoms to travel, directing us to exhilarating destinations across each of his years.  This day (November 18, 2009) was no exception.  What a treat:  sit back, relax, and let 16-year-old Za handle things.

Inauspiciously, we get started.  Early winter darkness falls, rush hour traffic surges, the Florida Turnpike bottlenecks, rain pours, visibility plummets, and the incoherent road construction obstacle course defies.  But as usual, we get nothing but eerie tranquility from Za, the unflappable one.  We have no map, no prior visit, no familiarity, no directions, no nothing.  All we have is Za’s legendary mastery of the Earth and a wild shot in the dark on a school night.

Eventually, Za seemingly arbitrarily exits the Turnpike, heads toward deeper darkness, and selects random, unmarked roads reminiscent only of “Deliverance.”  In his usual way, he doesn’t talk too much, no matter the level of passenger need for reassurance.  Finally, Za gives his car a giddy-up and we appear to be elevating rapidly.  Somehow, we begin ascending a shrouded Sugarloaf Mountain.  Za crests the hill, turns into a cul de sac (pre-known from his rampant Earth expertise), and there we sit with a peaceful, majestic view overlooking the big city lights.  As if that was not enough, immediately and on cue, Disney’s fireworks begin illuminating the skies, and our exclusive locale morphs into the perfectly timed panorama.

Such has always been the flavor of life with Za!

After the show, Za gave us a fly-by of downtown Orlando.  I recalled how in his infancy, still unable to enunciate English much at all, he would call out and point to the named skyline structures, marveling at them with every visit.  Za had grown up but had not outgrown what will forever be timeless—the wonderments of life.  Two hours after leaving home, we returned.  Chocked full of more to say than can ever be said, this impromptu interlude with Za remains emblematic of any time spent with him where he calls the shots.  Classy and thrilling.

Today, far from home in a Garden of Eden long ago built for him, Za’s college classes begin.  While he gets to know others and they get to know him, no doubt Heaven is directing pyrotechnicians to be at the ready to demonstrate one day to the newbies in his life what I have long known and proclaimed:  “Za, you’re the best!”

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