The Truck from the USSR

There we were, sitting in a taxi, ready to leave. The taxi driver, however, was not there. He had gone off to get a coffee (or a mojito, who knows) while we waited for the other two travellers we had struck a deal with to travel together for a lower price per person.

The temperature was starting to rise and we opened the windows, taking the chance to snap photos of unsuspecting passers by.

Suddenly, around the corner comes this beast. A huge, gigantic enormous truck from the USSR, roaring in slow motion and inching its way along the unpaved dust road. Bright blue, it honked its three horns while the driver shouted greetings to people he knew and proceeded to crawl about three centimetres from our left side.

We loved it.

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