Easy rider
Someone up there's laughing at me but seems to like me too (perhaps you can empathise) - for anyone who was fearing things were going too smoothly, I've knackered myself again: this time only semi-my fault though. I think.
So I'd spent the day at Kep, lovely little seaside town, and I'm heading with my trusty moto (motorbike taxi) driver back to my guesthouse down the road in Kampot. It's nighttime, as I'd fancied a quick dip in the sea at sunset - madly picturesque, as my dad would say. On the way back we stop for gas. I'm looking at the sky and marvelling at the stars (massive sky + no light pollution = wow), doing all the 'What a tiny speck I am in all this vastness' thing. All well and good. I look down and see dude on motorbike gesturing me to get on. Fine. I get on. Ten seconds later I realise it's not the same dude. *rse: I haven't paid the other guy yet and he waited all day for me at Kep, he's gonna be mad if I bail on him, and obviously it would be just a touch out of order anyway. So I try and get the guy to stop.
I don't know if it was my distracting him, something on the road (that's what he said) or a combination of the two, but suddenly he's lost control and slewing violently right and left; in another half-second there comes the realisation that I'm not staying on, then crump oof crash bang wallop and I'm saying hello to the tarmac. My cheek, shoulder and side all look like someone's gone at them with a cheese-grater and there's an ominous ache around my collarbone.
Despite this little setback the guy's still very anxious to get my fare and I'm in such a daze I get back on again, leading to the inevitable: 20 seconds later my original driver catches up with us, in the sort of huff you would imagine; I try and explain with my face bleeding that I've made a mistake but I've obviously hurt his feelings. So I end up getting back on his bike and giving the other guy a dollar for a 500-yard drive with free gravel. Just to put the icing on the cake, the bike I'm on now's lamp goes, so we have to do the rest of the drive back in the dark, thoughts of lightning striking twice uppermost in my mind.
Despite all this, I actually feel a bit lucky: if we'd been going any faster (think we were only doing 20-30 mph), there'd been a car behind us, I'd landed on my head etc., I might not be here anymore. Also, there isn't a break, the pain in my shoulder should be gone in a day or two and the scratchmarks so far have been having the effect of eliciting sympathy from numerous barmaids, which can never be a bad thing... Still, some part of me will heave a sigh of relief when I touchdown in Oz!
So I'd spent the day at Kep, lovely little seaside town, and I'm heading with my trusty moto (motorbike taxi) driver back to my guesthouse down the road in Kampot. It's nighttime, as I'd fancied a quick dip in the sea at sunset - madly picturesque, as my dad would say. On the way back we stop for gas. I'm looking at the sky and marvelling at the stars (massive sky + no light pollution = wow), doing all the 'What a tiny speck I am in all this vastness' thing. All well and good. I look down and see dude on motorbike gesturing me to get on. Fine. I get on. Ten seconds later I realise it's not the same dude. *rse: I haven't paid the other guy yet and he waited all day for me at Kep, he's gonna be mad if I bail on him, and obviously it would be just a touch out of order anyway. So I try and get the guy to stop.
I don't know if it was my distracting him, something on the road (that's what he said) or a combination of the two, but suddenly he's lost control and slewing violently right and left; in another half-second there comes the realisation that I'm not staying on, then crump oof crash bang wallop and I'm saying hello to the tarmac. My cheek, shoulder and side all look like someone's gone at them with a cheese-grater and there's an ominous ache around my collarbone.
Despite this little setback the guy's still very anxious to get my fare and I'm in such a daze I get back on again, leading to the inevitable: 20 seconds later my original driver catches up with us, in the sort of huff you would imagine; I try and explain with my face bleeding that I've made a mistake but I've obviously hurt his feelings. So I end up getting back on his bike and giving the other guy a dollar for a 500-yard drive with free gravel. Just to put the icing on the cake, the bike I'm on now's lamp goes, so we have to do the rest of the drive back in the dark, thoughts of lightning striking twice uppermost in my mind.
Despite all this, I actually feel a bit lucky: if we'd been going any faster (think we were only doing 20-30 mph), there'd been a car behind us, I'd landed on my head etc., I might not be here anymore. Also, there isn't a break, the pain in my shoulder should be gone in a day or two and the scratchmarks so far have been having the effect of eliciting sympathy from numerous barmaids, which can never be a bad thing... Still, some part of me will heave a sigh of relief when I touchdown in Oz!
posted by Pearson at 12:05 PM
6 Comments:
Try and stay alive/in one piece for long enough to get to Australia where you have family to look after you/stop you doing any more stupid things...Although I admit this one doesn't seem to be your fault (apart from getting on wrong bike in first place - muppet).
Sara
xxx
Sorry mate I feel really bad about that last post now, forget I ever said that and just stick to the Lonely Planet, don't try anything clever, play it safe and you'll be fine! No heroes!!
Martin
p.s. you shouldn't have given that other moto driver the dollar, because:
a)he crashed/nearly killed you, and
b)he's probably using it to buy crystal meth ("yaba")
Dear oh dear, for all my cousinly concern and love I confess that that one did make me giggle. Just at the sheer bad luck of course and NOT the image of you bouncing off a motobike at 20-30 mph...Which makes me feel a bit queezy.
Get your sorry ass to Oz, no more mishaps please.
Hello Adam, your adventures are so visual that my sudden, manic outbursts of laughter must only confim to the customers that I am slowly and surely losing it.
Re the comment on your safety once you get to Oz, I seriously doubt it- recent events regarding a missed dental appointment spring to mind.
Overheard in reception recently from a Miss sad, stuck-up and sexually frustrated of Chislehurst "8 o'clock in the morning, the vicar's wife and still in bed!!!" Disgraceful.
Nothing changes here.
As always, take care now.
Lorraine
Dude...
... how can you get on the wrong bike??! Were they twins? Was it a con? Did he deliberatley ditch you?
Thats just weird.
Dude, it was nighttime, I only saw the back of his head and they all wear baseball caps... apart from that though yeah it was definitely a conspiracy!
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