The scars of battle are worn proudly by all Thai males as symbols of their machismo, their daring and their bravery. It is rare to see a teenager that doesn't have enduring marks on his body or at least bandages indicating he has successfully completed one of the cultural passages into Thai manhood. Most adult Thais can point to similar long-faded badges on their bodies. Anyone who can display a scar or injury and proudly say "rotmotorsy" is given a sympathetic, knowing smile and the respect due one who has suffered. It was inevitable that I, too, would join that august fraternity.
The day started pretty much as usual. I awoke before the alarm's scheduled buzz at 7:00 a.m. The sweet scented morning breeze lifted the curtains slightly as it passed through the room. It felt cooler than usual which often meant that there would be some rain later in the day. As I stretched beneath the single sheet my foot bumped into something soft and warm and familiar. Rolling over I saw Thep splayed across our queen size bed. How could one person take up so much of the bed? Thinking how happy I was, I brushed his black hair from his forehead, gently kissed his cheek and slid out of bed leaving him with his dreams.
I slipped on my shorts and when out the front door of the apartment and onto the huge communal balcony from which I could look down seven floors to the pool and patio below. There was San doing morning laps before leaving for his accounting job. Ignoring pangs of guilt, I decided not to go for my usual swim as I wanted to leave for work early this morning. Because of the excitement and extra entertainment at the "Crazy Bar" last night I was too tired to finish preparing the materials for “the phrase game” I planned for the engineering group today. I would do that once I got to work.
Back in the apartment I opened the door to the rear, private balcony and let the morning sunshine light up the room. Above the neighboring school yard a smoky haze from the numerous charcoal cookers accompanied the aromas of cooking fish and noodles for the morning meal. I flicked on CNN while making my usual breakfast of a peanut butter and jam sandwich washed down with a cup of instant coffee. I slipped off my shorts and took my dishes into the washroom and placed them with the others dishes stacked beneath the shower. There was no kitchen but we had discovered that the dishes would eventually come clean if they shared a shower or two, or three, or more with us. I turned on the single tap and waited for the cool water to wake me up completely. The apartment had no hot water. But when you took your shower in the afternoon or evening then the water would often be warm as it was stored in tanks on the roof.
I was able to dress casually as my "teacher's" clothes were in my locker at Siam-Nissan Casting Company. My rain-gear had to be put into my pack along with the teaching materials that I needed for the day. I wiped the visor of my helmet, put Thep's daily allowance of 120 bhat on the table and made ready to leave.
"Good morning". Thep groaned as he rolled over and stretched.
"Good morning puean phom", I replied, "How are you this morning".
"I am fine thank you. How are you?" he said in his stilted but well practiced English. "You go work now?"
"Yes, I am going to work. Phom glap see mung bai." (I will return at 4 o-clock.)
Thep reached out his arms and wiggled his fingers in a gesture for me to come to him. He wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a good morning good-bye kiss. I looked at him wondering to myself why I was so lucky.
"Sawadee krap." I said as I picked up my pack, keys and helmet and left. I took the elevator to the main floor and walked through the lobby to the parking lot in front of the building where my trusty steed awaited. The powerful, 80 c.c. Yamaha BelleR motorcycle. This, and the ones produced by the other Asian manufacturers, are truly amazing machines. In Thailand they can carry five people or one’s entire household assets. There is a repair shop every two hundred meters anywhere in the country. Repairs are cheap. Replacing an inner tube on the rear tire costs from 60 to 100 bhat or less than $5. These repair shops have everything. I am sure that if you had only a small piece of the right rear-view mirror left of the entire bike and told the repairman, "Here, I think my bike is broken." He would reply that there was no problem, he could fix it. They are great on gas and terrible in the rain.
With my helmet on, sunglasses set and my pack on my back I bounced off down the pot-holed road towards the Sukumwit Highway and towards, - forty minutes later - fifteen engineers eager to improve their English.
Sukumwit Highway runs from the center of Bangkok east and south along the eastern seaboard. Judging by newspaper accounts, it must be the countries number one death road. On paper it's two lanes each way, divided by a median in places and with paved shoulders. Should be no problem. However the Thais have decided that the two lanes are wide enough for three cars to travel abreast at most times. The paved shoulder is perfect for driving a short distance against the traffic instead of crossing to the correct side. Thai drivers have a unwritten law that under no circumstances should any vehicle stop moving especially when coming out of a side street, lane, gas station or parking lot. That is unless you want to park to go into a store, then it is the norm to park anywhere - even the middle of the street or highway. Driving defensively only results in creating problems so new drivers quickly learn to become aggressive maniacs while behind the wheel.
Thank goodness I only need to travel about 8 kilometers before I turned inland onto Highway 31 heading to Rayong. Another 10 klicks and I turned left onto the nicest piece of road on the whole journey.
This is two pave lanes of gentle curves and hills that winds its way through lush forests and green farmlands. It's a Harley-Davidson dream world. Here you can relax, swaying gently through the curves, enjoying the cooling wind that billows your jacket and taking in the exotic tropical smells of the Thai countryside. There are two problems that require attention. First, around any corner you may encounter a water-buffalo strolling along the road. They do not take kindly to motorcycles. Second, about half way along there are two, vehicle-eating potholes whose proximity to each other are strategically placed to test anyone's reflexes. Coming from the west, as I was, the first pothole is between the non-paved shoulder and the middle of your lane making it imperative that you move to the center line to avoid disaster. The second is about 4 meters further on and takes a large bite out of most of the on-coming lane. These are not such great impediments for a vehicle with four wheels but for a Honda Dream traveling at 70 kph, they are to be evaded at all costs.
Like most experienced Thai cyclists, I had memorized every menacing pothole on all my usual routes. Therefore when I came around the sweeping curve before the perilous pits, I was half dreaming of my next days off as the motorcycle automatically drifted to the center line to skirt the initial hole. I even noticed the ubiquitous Toyoto pick-up barreling towards me in his proper lane. Now in Thailand, the rule of the road is, anything bigger has absolute right of way over anything smaller. In fact anything smaller can be considered not there. Therefore on seeing the pothole before him the Toyoto swerved over to take up half of my lane. Instantly I moved to give him room only to realized that I was perfectly lined up on the first chasm and was about to experience the thrill of motor-cross.
Many days later, after reliving the accident many times, I believe that if I had stayed the course and flown straight across the pothole, I probably would have exited unscathed or possibly with only a flat front tire. But in my inexperience, I jammed on both the front and rear brakes without noticing the thin layer of gravel covering the road. Immediately I realized the error of my ways as the bike slid out from under me and my brilliant mind told the rest of my body to tense up and prepare for a bumpy ride.
The human body is an amazing thing. About 20 seconds are gone from my life and what must have been a very painful event never registered. The first thing I noticed was someone moaning in a frantic attempt to restore air to lungs devoid of oxygen. Slowly came the realization that it was me doing the moaning. I heard other sounds of concerned people around me, which made me concentrate on ceasing my moans for fear of embarrassment. I opened my eyes to a small crowd obviously anxious about this farang. With their help, I began to sit up and with as much dignity as I could muster, I said, "Mai mee bhen hah. Phom sabhai." (No problem, I'm okay.") They picked up the Yamaha and I immediately climbed on it still not really sure of what I was doing. As the bike did not have electric ignition, I had to use the kick start but without any success. My eyes were still not focusing. One of the onlookers used his foot and got the motor running. Thanking them all profusely I road off towards work.
I got around the next bend and realized that my eyes were still not focusing and there was something wrong with my helmet so I slowed to a stop at the road's edge.
As I unbuckled and lifted the helmet, pain shot through my head. I touched my right temple and again the pain struck. I looked at the helmet and saw where some of the road was still imbedded and the visor had become detached. From then on any thoughts of riding without wearing a brain-bucket was gone. It was then that I realized that there were other parts of my body that were reporting damage. I was bleeding from scraps to my shoulder, lower arm and leg. My shirt and pants were torn. I looked and felt a mess. But somewhere in my foggy brain I convinced myself to carry on to my waiting engineers.
I started off down the road but soon had little idea of where I was. I recognized no landmarks. Nothing seemed familiar. What road was I on anyways? Proceeding on further I came to an intersection I should have known but I couldn't decide which way to turn. I chose left, still not recognizing anything. "We must be going the wrong way." my half-functioning brain decided and promptly I turned around to retrace the route. Ten minutes later the gray matter reversed this decision and so back the other way I went. This time I was determined to proceed. After ten long minutes my mind began to clear and I gratefully acknowledged that I was heading in the right direction.
Arriving at work, I slipped unnoticed into the locker room and changed into my dress pants, shirt and tie after wrapping my wounds in several metres of toilet paper. This I would regret later that evening. Needless to say neither the engineers nor the students in my other classes received my best lessons that day but at least I got through it without anyone noticing evidence of my accident. Oh, the pride some people have.
Arriving home, Thep was caring and sympathetic though I could tell he was chuckling inside over the fact that I had now become a real road warrior. The next day I did the Thai thing and wore my white, sterile badges proudly and eagerly told and retold the experience many times. Even now, as I am writing this in Toronto, I feel twinges of a Horatio Alger complex. And I miss the excitement of "tooley trucking" along the exotic byways of the Land of Smiles.
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