You can die anywhere
In the early 80's I traveled all over northern Mexico. Near the border there were often openly well-armed (m-16,ak's, not just pistols) guys who were involved in the drug trade and they couldn't care less that I was there. Of course all I heard in the US was that I'd die, be robbed, run over, blah, blah, blah and all that happened was I had many excellent trips and met some awfully nice people. Oddly, one of those well-armed people struck up a conversation about my bike (81 bmw R80GS) which made me a bit apprehensive. As it turned out, he had exactly the same bike himself and we had a great conversation. Had I listened to the doomsayers, I'd have missed out on some great trips. Remember, you are not going to live forever and it's better to die doing something you love than die at work. That would be truly depressing.
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