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It took about two weeks in the country until the betel spitting no longer immediately activated my gag reflex.
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The basket delivery truck we rode into town in.
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The first of Susan's three flat tires (and the first of my three hundred fat jokes). I guess you get what you pay for when you rent a bike for a dollar a day.
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We got it, you have have giant baskets...you don't have to add the smug nonchalant strut. I was suddenly very self concious about the tiny little basket on my bike.
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