I first met Mike in a riders' convocation at a pub in Vancouver. Next met up with him in Chiapas, then failed to hold up my share in various dives and cantinas across a swath of Guatemala. The following year: Colombia, for as long as my liver could handle. Couple years later we crossed paths again in Cuba, where I (again) failed to do my share of the drinking. Sense a theme here? The man had stories to tell and an inexhaustible thirst.
RIP Mike.
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