One doesn’t choose to ride in the back of a Reacharound. Circumstances dictate it. We couldn’t see the rises in front of us. But we could feel them. The people in the front had joyful faces. Those in the back seemed belabored. That’s where the work happens in a Reacharound. In the back.
Our memories are a blur. We’re only piecing together what a difficult challenge this was now, as we try to find words to make it sound important and take the hours required to photoshop out the joyful faces of those we pretended were not riding with us. It ruins the illusion of suffering, you see, if you share it with friends.
So thank you for riding with us. Between just us, it was a pleasure. But stop smiling, or we won’t be able to include you in our marketing.