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About Kawasaki

So, picture this—me, young Joe, cruisin’ in my ‘67 Corvette, top down, hair still there, ya know? I’d never—never—go lookin’ for that kinda trouble. But my buddy Mike? Hoo boy, he’d drag me along, sayin’, “C’mon, man, live a little!” We’d roll up to some dive bar—neon flickerin’ like it’s half-dead. This one time, ‘round ‘82, Mike spots this gal—fishnets, red lipstick, smokin’ a cig like she owned the joint. He’s all, “Joe, she’s the one!” I’m thinkin’, “Fear’s takin’ over my head now”—like in the movie, ya get me?

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The Kamo River originates in the mountains northwest of Kyoto. It then passes through rural and secluded Kumogahata, entering the city proper at Kamigamo.

When I got there, my coworker was just chilling. I was like, “Dude, the system!” He shrugged. I wanted to scream. But instead, I just fixed it. Took me an hour, but I did it. I felt like a hero.

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