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January 6, 2012
Sixth entry. We hit something. Outside. It thumped us pretty hard, and we're pitched over a fair bit to the right. Kinda feels like we're skidding, like in a wide circle, in the night, on black ice. It's not a good feeling, but Skip says they'll work out the kinks back home. We just keep sliding in the dark in the same circle, pitched to the right, with noise and that smell, and Skip with his comb. You'd think his part would bend to match the curve and the slide and the constant falling sideways around and around and around.