30
Tyler
Porto Alegre was a big, chaotic city with too many cars and crazy motorcycle drivers. I was shocked to see the men, usually without a helmet, zipping between the cars.
On the ride out of the city, Regina—I started calling her Mrs. Fernandes, but she explained no one called each other by the last name here, unless it was friends using it as a nickname instead—told me they had a house in the city, but they spent ninety-nine percent of their time at their ranch about ninety minutes away.
I couldn’t help but look around as the city was left behind. The road was narrow and only one lane in each direction for most of the drive. Sometimes, there wasn’t even a shoulder lane. What were we supposed to do in case of emergency? Pull over in the grass? In the hill right off the road?
We p
