You know that you’re operating at less than genius level if you manage to bury your truck in the beach sand. And if you do this while out in the middle of nowhere, in a place with zero cell phone reception, your IQ score is even lower. Finally, if you manage to achieve all of this when it’s three o’clock in the morning, you can be pretty certain that you’ve won the golden dunce cap. That was exactly where your friend Stevie was in early June about four years ago, covered in beach sand and mosquito bites, praying for someone to come driving by to rescue me from my self-inflicted predicament. And it was in this situation where I first met Noah Karberg.
