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friend, asked my father whether the bodybuilding class was a front for Zionist agitation. It was an unpleasant conversation, but everyone understood that this could only be the beginning of the unpleasantness. The class was now being closely monitored. The only way to keep from shutting it down would be to justify its existence in an official capacity. In other words, they had better discover some talent.
    After the meeting with the director, my father suggested to Gregory that the smart thing to do would be to end the class. They’d made their money, and since my parents had already resolved to leave the Soviet Union, this was exactly the sort of incident that could create serious problems. Gregory, who had no plans to emigrate, but who also had no interest in a trip to Siberia, agreed. They decided not to continue the class beyond the end of the month.
    The following day my father discovered Sergei Federenko.
    On the night my father discovered Sergei Federenko the class ended later than usual. Gregory left early and my father remained with five students. It was almost ten when my father opened the back door of the gym and stepped out into the alley where three young soldiers were singing drunken songs. The smallest of the three was pissing against the wall. My father turned in the opposite direction, but one of his students decided to flex his new muscles. He accused the little soldier of uncivilized behavior, called him a dog, and said unflattering things about his mother.
    The little soldier continued pissing as if nothing had happened, but the two bigger soldiers got ready to crack skulls.
    –Would you listen to Chaim? A real tough Jew bastard.
    –You apologize, Chaim, before it’s too late.
    My father envisioned a catastrophe. Even if by some miracle he and his students weren’t killed, the police would get involved. The consequences of police involvement would be worse than any beating.
    Before his student could respond, my father played the conciliator. He apologized for the student. He explained that he was part of a bodybuilding class. His head was still full of adrenaline. He didn’t know what he was saying. Doctors had proven that as muscles grow the brain shrinks. He didn’t want any trouble. They should accept his apology and forget the whole thing.
    As my father spoke the little soldier finished pissing on the wall and buttoned up his trousers. Unlike his two friends, he was completely unperturbed. He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a small bottle of vodka. One of the other soldiers pointed to a black Moskvich sedan parked in the alley.
    –Listen, faggot, if one of your boys can lift the Moskvich we’ll forget the whole thing.
    They made a deal. The Moskvich had to be lifted from the back and held at least a meter off the ground. Even though the engine was at the front, the back of the car was sufficiently heavy. Taking into account the frame, wheels, tires, and whatever might be kept in the trunk, the total would be in the hundreds of pounds. Maybe three hundred? Maybe four? It was an impossible bet. None of his students would be able to do it. It would be an exercise in futility. They would certainly be humiliated, but from my father’s perspective, humiliation was better than a beating and a police inquiry. So, out of respect for my father, his students shut up and endured the ridicule. One by one they squatted under the car’s bumper.
    –Careful, Chaim, don’t shit your pants.
    –Lift it for Mother Russia.
    –Lift it for Israel.
    As expected, none of them could so much as get it off the ground. When they were done, one of the soldiers turned to the student who had started the trouble.
    –Not so tough now, Chaim?
    –It’s impossible.
    –Impossible for Chaim.
    –Impossible even for a stupid cocksucker like you.
    Amazingly, instead of killing the student, the big soldier turned to the little soldier.
    –Sergei, show Chaim what’s impossible.
    The little soldier put his bottle