Tom Cartledge
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SaddleSore: From England to India
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“This was a place that had seen too many boots tramp across its soil, too many names carved into its skin.”
― SaddleSore: From England to India
― SaddleSore: From England to India
“No detailed plan, no fixed accommodations—just our bikes, a map, and the thrill of roads that stretched on like unwritten stories.”
― SaddleSore: From England to India
― SaddleSore: From England to India
“There’s something about border towns that tastes like spilt liquor and cigarette ash. They rarely greet you with a smile. More like a shrug, a raised eyebrow, maybe a tax. And crossing from Slovakia into Hungary felt exactly like that: like the end of a party we were never really invited to. Gone were the manicured roads and apologetic drivers of the West. In their place: cracked tarmac, sun-faded billboards, and a lingering Cold War hangover you couldn’t quite shake off. It was perfect.”
― SaddleSore: From England to India
― SaddleSore: From England to India
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