Up the Khyber

Yes, my journeys began outside a small Volvo dealership near the
edge of the Washington/Oregon border.

I was buying Volvos in bulk for my people's pilgrimage to the Khyber
river located 2 miles outside of Tahoe.

When I realized the cost of such a purchase, I ditched my people and
took off in my used Geo to take on the massive river.

Near a town called Runners, I encountered a group of natives that were
both hostile and drunk.

Yes, these men talked of such things as "paying us for the beer you
drank" and "getting my hands off their women". I was lucky to escape
with only a black eye and gonorrhea.

Twelve days later I found myself penniless and homesick in the great
town of Tahoe. I begged for change outside a casino, only to be greeted
by a police arrest which brought me to a lavish prison cell in the city
center. There I made friends with two natives named Tom and
Jerry.

These two friendly men informed me that the Khyber was not only near
the city center, but also open. I inquired to what they meant by "open"
and they only laughed.

I was released sometime later, the charges of vagrancy were dropped and
I was a free man.

It was now two blocks down to the great Khyber river that flows like
gushing water through a&;#8230;.a river&;#8230;.bed.

I walked for what seemed like days, and then I turned around and
realized I was going the wrong way and that it had been days.

I met several friendly people along the way. Like Harry, the amputee
and Lisa the amputee'er. But, I would say my favorite person was Johnny
the Guy Who Bought Me a Free Beer.

It was the ninth year of my trip when I came upon a curious sign which
read "Khyber River Water Park." I sat agape. They had erected a water
park in the lovely river that was my conquest.

On further inspection I realized it was not a river at all, but a water
slide.

I never got to see the Khyber, being broke and all. But, to this day my
friends and family still ask to hear my tales and if one day they might
not make a journey with me.