Night falls here like a guy whose parachute failed to open.
If you happen to be cruising Yokosuka neighborhoods when the sun races over the horizon, the rubbing noises coming from the direction of your car trunk might start to sound an awful lot like lug nuts caught in the act of stripping. And that, of course, could easily distract you from noticing you are entering a one-way street from the wrong direction or heading down a narrow winding lane that dead ends abruptly at the edge of a precipice affording what is probably a breath-taking view of Tokyo Bay, a view you are unable to appreciate because you are too concerned with steering your car in reverse back up to the intersection 100 yards behind and above you without scraping against the houses or bumping into the chains the homeowners have strung across their tiny carport entrances to dash any hope of executing a Y turn you might have been harboring.
There are people who complain about how much it costs to live in Japan. I'm going to invite them to ride along with me the next time it's my turn to deliver a meal to a family with a new baby. I do believe I might have invented the cheapest thrill in Asia. People who refuse to leave the house without their cellphone have no idea how exciting life can be.
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