Last night I was stopped by the police. It was at a routine traffic stop where all riders were to be stopped and questioned. As I slowed down, I realized that my ownership of the moped was in jeopardy for I was looking directly at a police truck loaded up with confiscated motorcycles.
-Riding an unregisterd bike
-Driving on a main road without a license
-Driving without my headlights on
They proceeded to:
-Take the keys from my bike
-Look confused when I took off my helmet
-Tell me to turn my lights on by gesturing
-Return my keys and send me on my merry way
Over the course of the time I was there (about three minutes), not one other bike passed through the checkpoint. I am getting used to this place.
Last night I dreamed I was: Sliced to death by knights of the Taliban clad in freshly polished suits of armor. Some had swords made of iron, but most had swords of tinfoil and cardboard (like a middle-school theatrical performance).