Zen and the Art of Not Dying in the Himalayas

I met two Portuguese guys in search of adventure, Luis and Antonio:

We rented sketchy motorcycles and rode up a mountain into the snow and thin air, until we reached the highest road in the world.


Apparently, you can't park on the highest road in the world.

While up there, we met some Indians and had a dance party:



On the way down, Luis's bike jammed in the accelerate position. He bailed; the bike spun out, wheels spinning wildly. He landed bruised and bloody half a meter from a shear cliff into the clouds. It was so scary it made me dizzy. The Indians caught up and were amazed he was still alive. "Your girlfriend must be praying for you," explained one of them. I also managed to spin out and scrape myself, but not so badly.

I thought a brush with death is supposed to make life sweeter, but the experience robbed my companions their Portuguese bravado. That night we ate dinner almost without speaking.