In preparation for this year's Elephant Charge I had agreed to go investigate what is being hailed as the finest off road tire in the history of man.
Our tracker was a saturnine fellow of zero
words and less expression. Not once had he
smiled, or hit really any note in the register
of human emotion.
When I drove over the border into Zimbabwe,
the country was barely nine years old,
the signs of civil war still everywhere.
Bullet-holes scored the outer walls of the
farmhouses spotting the savannahs.
We live in an age where Point B is to be arrived at as quickly and as comfortably as possible. Despite these obvious efficiencies, we ought to be saddened by what is missed along the way. This is especially the case if Point B is Fort Kent, in the northernmost woods of Maine...
They describe it as Dust, Sweat, and Gears. And bloody hell it is that. But so much more.
Lunatics gallivanting through the bush with striped down, juiced up 4x4s, up hill and down dale.
I mean besides wanting a drink, I also want to be free from dread.
So says the poet Jim Harrison. Drink, of course, is the antidote to dread, but its effects are short-lived and I always feel worse afterward. Harrison often writes...
You couldn’t say we weren’t warned. The old caretaker—and, in winter, the sole inhabitant—of Chesuncook Village made it very clear. “Wait,” he said with a peculiarity that immediately earned him...
“Ladies gun, sir”. Those words sneeringly signaled the end of the fifteen-year affair between James Bond and his .25 Beretta. After a Court of Inquiry concluded that he nearly got himself killed because of his choice of ...
One of the things I love about Thai boxing ("Muay Thai") is the shorts. I feel the heavily designed versions seep into regular boxing a little bit as well, but no where near as much as in Thai boxing.