[ WP ] In Korea , driving on a curvy mountain road you come upon a car parked on the cliff side . A buddhist monk hurriedly closes the trunk , runs into the driver 's seat , and speeds away .

It happens every time! 
 
 Every time I try to be adventurous and take a chance life takes a swing at me. This trip to Korea I just another example of how fucked up my life is. 
 
 After years of laying low, living a humdrum boring life, after the whole Helen fiasco, I finally decide to take a chance and do something different. 
 
 I always wanted to see the far east, but never got around to it. I could come up with dozens of perfectly good reasons why not, but the fact is, deep down I just know I'm not the “ see the world and go on adventure ” type. Nope, I'm definitely the boring salt of the earth predictable type. And at 40 years of age, I do n't know what possessed me to go on this trip alone, without a guide or a travel agency. 
 
 I guess my boredom got the better of me. 
 
 Now I'm lost, in the middle of the night and the middle of some god forsaken mountain without even the ability to read road signs. 
 
 That's when the car appears in front of me, parked by the side of the road. 
 
 Just behind it is a little fat bald man in a light blue monk's habit, slamming the trunk shut. 
 
 I could swear... 
 
 I could swear there was something moving in the trunk. A flash of red cloth and pink motion. 
 
 As I slow down to gather my wits, the monk moves clumsily but quickly to the driver's seat and speeds away. 
 
 Before my conscious mind realizes what I'm doing, my foot is already on the gas, my hands grip the steering wheel tightly and my senses focus and sharpen. I'm giving chase. 
 
 We are both speeding down the sinuous mountain road, flirting dangerously with the cliff to our right. 
 
 As my mind catches up with current events I'm thinking I must be mad. I'm risking my life for what exactly? A glimpse of colour and motion that could mean nothing! Even if I catch this guy what am I going to do? Ask him if he happens to be carrying a person in his trunk! Maybe the guy does n't even speak English, then what? 
 
 I notice however that none of these arguments, however reasonable is stopping my body from driving the car like a maniac, and far too close to the fat monk's car. My high beams flood his car in light and I can see him looking behind, just for a moment, taking in the painful brightness before returning his eyes to the road. 
 
 There is no doubt. He now knows he's being followed. 
 
 His speed increases even more as we near the base of the mountain. 
 
 Suddenly, he slams on the breaks and I quickly follow suit, but not fast enough. I crash into the rear of his car and my air-bag deploys, like a heavy weight boxer with a pillow for a fist. 
 
 The car veers to the right but at this point, there lies a gentle slope and not a cliff anymore. I roll downhill until I reach the nearest tree that stops me in my tracks. 
 
 I feel the pain only when I try to peel the seat belt stuck to my shoulder. Still, nothing seems to be broken and it only hurts a little when I breathe. 
 
 Opening the door, I notice a light in the distance and start walking towards it. The cold night air clears my mind and undoes some of the work the adrenaline had made. The fear starts to grip my heart. 
 
 There is a big dent in the boot of the monk's yellow Toyota and the driver's side door is open. 
 
 He is still there, sitting, when I finally reach the car. He looks at me and his chubby face is a mask of terror. 
 
 He speaks. 
 
 I can not understand the words but fear, like music, is a universal language. 
 
 “ Do n't hurt me! ” I imagine he's saying. He reaches into the folds of his robe and produces a wallet. A plain, brown leather wallet, just like a “ normal ” person. 
 
 “ I never knew monks carried wallets ” I think has he pushes it in my direction, begging me to take it in his unintelligible tongue. 
 
 “ Bloody hell ”, I say to myself as I realize what I've done. I just ran a Buddhist monk of the road and he now thinks I'm trying to rob him. 
 
 And so will the cops, for that matter. If it comes down to it, who will they believe? Some foreigner or a respected man of the cloth. 
 
 In my mind I'm already seeing the inside of a Korean jail cell as I try to persuade this man that is was just a misunderstanding. 
 
 Hands in front of me, palms outward, I adopt the most harmless posture I can think of, as I try say “ Please calm down sir. It was only an accident. I was lost. ”. 
 
 After a few minutes of this he appears to calm down, and his face shows a glimmer of understanding. He appears to know a smattering of the Queen's. 
 
 “ What you want? ”, he screams in my direction. 
 
 “ I just want to help! ” I scream back, and I reach forward with one hand to help him out of the car. 
 
 After a minute's hesitation he grabs my hand. I can feel his grip tightening around my arm. 
 
 A low moan comes from the boot. 
 
 Before I can react, my arm is nearly wrenched from it's socket as the monk pulls me toward him. Then his teeth sink into my neck and my world is pain and blood. 
 
 Every single time!
