I haven’t met a person from Finland who wasn't a genuine, fear-inducing psychopath. When I finished school I worked in a remote gold mine in Western Australia’s Pilbara region. There I met a geologist who terrified all the other workers, especially when he was driving. His name was Timo. Visiting far-flung exploration sites was one task we did regularly and I was always stuck with Timo on these long and dangerous drives in the desert. "Oh, Andy, I think I know a shortcut,” Timo would say, as he twisted the steering wheel and swerved off an escarpment. “This is fun, yes? HAHA! I learn to drive rally car in snow and sand is like snow only not cold. HAHAHA!” “HAHAHA…FUCK” I would reply, as I gripped the seat with my limpet-like butt cheeks.
His manic chortling wasn’t helped by the fact he was perpetually sunburnt and had Cornflake sized chunks of skin peeling off his nose. Seatbelts were an optional accessory while driving in the mine. Well, except when Timo was driving that is. "You think your pansy safety strap will save you from your death if we roll off this cliff? HAHAHAHA!" “HAHAHA…FUCK”
One night, at a remote campsite, I caught him trying to catch wild dingoes. He was lying in the dirt, wrapped up in a sleeping bag with a piece of meat in his hand. The dingoes circling the camp would come close but he could never grab one. When I asked why he said "I would like to touch one to see what their fur feels like. HAHAHA."