Well, riding on the back of a run-down, rickety, manual transmission motorcycle that keeps overheating, stalling, and exuding malodorous aromas of burning rubber and oil, driven by a 67-year old man in flip flops up a poorly paved mountain road: “Oops, we’ve got a problem,” “Dead again,” “This usually happens,” “It’s just too hot,” “Dead again!” “No problem, let’s go…let’s go, Sam!” “Hmm… maybe you should walk up this hill.”–all for the sake of meeting a potential participant–is just as nerve-wracking as it sounds.


4 thoughts on “eep”

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