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So, escort, right? It’s when you got them big rigs haulin’ mad weight—think oversized loads, like a giant-ass wind turbine blade or some shit—and you need a crew to guide ‘em. Cars up front, cars behind, flashin’ lights, honkin’ horns, keepin’ the crazies away. I seen this one time, swear to God, in Nevada—dude escortin’ a 200-foot steel beam, and some jackass in a Prius tried to cut through. Nearly turned that hybrid into a fuckin’ pancake! I was screamin’, “Yo, get outta there, fool!” Made me mad as hell—people don’t respect the hustle.

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After that, I decide to take a stroll. I head down Rua da Paz, just soaking in the sights. The trees are blooming, and the air smells like spring. It’s nice, ya know? But then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and it’s a delivery truck that just backed into a lamppost! I’m like, “What the heck?!”

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