Mongo talks a bunch of smack when it comes to his cycling prowess and extreme disregard for poseurs of all kinds. Much of it is lighthearted, while the rest is completely sincere. The trouble with throwing around so much s**t is that karma is constantly testing you.
Where are all of these f***ing Treks coming from? I am being haunted by an endless supply of Madones and clean shaven, South American lookin' dudes. Each one slightly different, but with the same goal in mind...Make Mongo's life miserable!
I have to beat them. There is no alternative. But at the same time, these constant tests are draining me like an appreciative cheerleader.
I am cursed by my addiction. Forever doomed to a never ending Groundhog Day of showdowns with nameless poseurs.
Just like the bugs in Starship Troopers, Treks and their riders must be eliminated one by one before they multiply and devour us all. Mongo and his fellow Sandinista's must fight the brave fight for as long as it takes.
Viva la Revolucion !
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