I’m outgrowing my love of cheap Communist Bloc stuff as I prepare for the looooooooong all-night ruck in Carson City. I don’t want to get halfway through the event only to drop out just because the last of my skin has been rubbed off by smelly Czechoslovak canvas.
So today I surrendered, embraced the capitalist running dog in all of us, and tried a lavishly padded, wide-strapped Belgian surplus backpack. I am never going back.
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