"Pfaaaaf"

The world’s most dangerous road begins on the outskirts of La Paz, one of Bolivia’s two capitals, and ends in the small town of Coroico. It’s narrow, unpaved path, hugs the side of the Andes as it slithers through waterfalls, subtropical jungles and rocky overhangs. On one side there is a bone shattering drop that claims over fifty lives a year. The road has become a beacon for tourists and mountain bikers alike who wish to test their courage by peddling down its 64 kilometer run.

Rodolfo was employed by one of the many companies who rent bikes out to those daring enough to give the road a try. His job was to pick up customers at the airport and drive them to the outskirts of the capital, where the craggy path begins. They were currently running behind schedule so Rodolfo pounded the accelerator, shooting the rickety van past the city’s edge. The Virgin Mary was bouncing so fast it was hard to tell she was even there.

“Man, I wish he’d slow down.” Tim was struggling to keep the airplane food where it belonged.

“Impossible. We have to get there soon. Imagine riding down that thing at night. There may be some wear and tear on this trip, but definitely no casualties.”

“Pfaaaaaaaaaaf”

“What the fu-,” Before Tim finished his question the car braked fast and veered sharply to the left. The force flung Tim full speed towards the car door, and, were it not for that second piece of duct tape, would have left him munching dirt.

“Everybody okay?” Rodolfo looked back to make sure.

“I’m fine. Looks like Tim may have been a little shaken up though.”

“Yes, Tim is a little shaken up. Rodolfo? What just happened?”

“Stupid alpaca. Alpaca always in the way. Look.”

Through the van’s bug caked windows the two travelers caught glimpse of a strange animal. It had the fur of a sheep but the neck of a baby giraffe. The alpaca looked back at the car, spit on it and yelled “Pfaaaaaf,” as if to reprimand the driver for his carelessness.