Global Hobo

The Chinese policeman opened the door and gestured for me to get inside the vehicle. It was a chilly day in Xi’an and as I did as I was told, ducking my head and crouching into the police car. I sat on the ripped seat, squashed between two policemen. The car reminded me of the old Ford we drove when I was a kid – it reeked of cigarette smoke and had seen decades of use. All four policemen lit cigarettes, disregarded their seat belts, turned on the sirens and drove us to the station.

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