The need to be heard

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My bike needs a foghorn, a really loud one, because squeeky horns are used indiscriminately and become 'white noise'. Sophat insists on warning cows with a pathetic 'peep peep' as they step out on to the road, and is amazed when they arrogantly ignore him, forcing him to make a surprised avoidance manoeuver. Dogs attend, so do chickens, but for some reason ducks don't (a useful little observation I'm compelled to share).

During our trip to Mondulkiri, Sophat's horn would sound at odd times and I set to thinking that he had resorted to warning trees to move out of the way. I couldn't see around his vast frame to realize that it was Jennifer's backpack, precariously balanced in front of him on the bike, that would topple and press on the horn button. We were losing mental clarity fast and this became disproportionately funny to us, being short on frivolous entertainment at the time.

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