Broken legs and learning to study

The impact threw me from the motorcycle into the air in the opposite direction of the way we had been traveling.

Physics is funny like that!

I landed on my right leg, which snapped like an unlucky baseball bat in the hands of an angry Bo Jackson who just struck out.

Things were worse for my friend Tim, who lay screaming on the ground because the car’s chrome trim had peeled off and sliced into his right leg making just a big mess.

Continue reading “Broken legs and learning to study”

The Price of Russian Gasoline

Russia – 1992. My translator’s mother, who had a broken leg at the time, hops into the small Russian made Lada (see this picture and think of a ripoff of a 1970s Corolla). She makes her way into the passenger’s seat. Her daughters also squeeze into the tiny car. Four people with thick cold-weather gear pressed and sautéed into a tin can.

Cozy.

We pull out of the parking lot after church on a Sunday morning and head for lunch. Fifty feet down the snow-packed road, the engine stops. I have a terrible feeling because I know the exact reason why it’s not running.  Continue reading “The Price of Russian Gasoline”

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