Drive a rickshaw through India

“The opium hit me as we reached the middle of the desert, endless nothingness stretching away on both sides, the road cracked and parched, my vision blurry, mirages dancing on the horizon. Alex took over driving and, like me, struggled to get to grips with the horrifically sticky clutch. He handled it like a champ and we managed to get the rickshaw racing again at a whopping fifty-five kilometers an hour… I looked at my map, this was going to take fucking forever. I’d pushed lawnmowers that were faster than this. It didn’t matter, I reasoned with myself, the adventure is about the journey, not the destination. That was when the rickshaw broke down for the first time… Slap back in the middle of the Thar Desert. Thirty-five kilometres of nothing, in both directions, between us and civilisation.”

“Hungry, I instantly devoured my cookies and got into the driving seat. Alex took up the role of navigating me the hell out of the crazy streets and together we left Jaisalmer, the gigantic sandcastle receding behind us as we took to the highway and headed into the tangerine desert. The sun, rising upon the horizon, crept across the sand and instantly began to cook us as I hit the gas, Indian-techno blasting through the stereo, and we got to grips with the truly awful steering. Avoiding potholes, the prayer flags flapping madly, Alex rolling an emergency joint in the back (just in case), we careened at a manic, or so it seemed, fifty kilometres an hour down the road, the only vehicle in sight.”

“At the end of the day, driving a rickshaw across India was exhausting. It was challenging. We would drive for twelve hours a day sometimes, the countryside whizzing by in one insane multi-coloured blur. This mental adventure was, however, hands down, the best thing I have ever done with my brother, Alex. If you have somebody solid by your side, the rickshaw race offers an incredible opportunity for you to bond. I hadn’t seen my bro for a while and this challenge really threw us back together.”