The Camp: Two: Buggy

The buggy was a lot more unstable then I thought it was going to be and even though Michael assured me it was safe, I was hanging on for dear life for the entire hour-long ride. We didn’t talk at all during the trip, but it was far from silent. The chassis made a clanging noise as it bounced up and down on the shocks, and the exposed engine roared like a hundred angry hornets.
We had driven down the main road, a wide, paved highway that came from the airport. Then Michael had swerved off of it, onto a route through the jungle. We had taken an extremely bumpy dirt path wit, thick undergrowth on either side. It had become so narrow that the buggy had almost gotten stuck between two massive palm trees. At the end of that, Michael had driven onto another paved highway, which we were currently speeding down.
Riding in the buggy was a unique experience, to say the least. First of all, it had absolutely no protection from anything. During the entire ride, you had to keep your mouth tightly shut and eyes in a squint to prevent bugs and dirt from flying in. Also, the wind whipped around you, pulling your hair back against your head and making it even harder to look straight forward. I don’t know how Michael drove the buggy, but somehow he managed.
All of a sudden, a gigantic wall of grey buildings loomed ahead, ending the road abruptly. Michael screeched the buggy to a stop and I climbed out; we had reached our destination: the mining camp.