Sven had it on his list of post-retirement goals.
We spent a weekend driving forklifts and got an appropriately ugly-but-official-looking license. I keep it in my wallet.
Nothing ever taught me more about mindfulness than Frank the Instructor, with zero preparation, giving me the keys to the forklift and telling me to move some concrete blocks from some shaky shelves full of heavy items, with my fellow forklift-drivers-to-be a couple meters behind with no protection.
It's been 1.5 years and I still receive random forklift toys from friends as gifts.
