Rain, rain and more damn rain. I just find it so hard to believe the amount of water that keeps pouring out of the sky. I nearly blew two and a half grand I didn’t have to spare on a nearly new Honda CBR600, but such was the constant battering of the Fowler frame by the winter weather that I decided to spend money I didn’t have on lying low in Bangkok for the maximum amount of time allowed over the winter by the publishing constraints of the UMG.
Those who have been with the UMG for a long time will recall that I once tried to ride a motorcycle in the crazed mess that the Thais call traffic, in a fairly desperate search to find something to fill up two pages of the UMG, and in the process hired a dilapadated cycle of dubious parentage to take on the natives, resulting in some amusingly deranged antics to stay alive.
I can now report that it is quite possible to ride a bike in Bangkok, but there are certain things that you have to bear in mind. For instance, if you’re silly enough to fall off and injure yourself, as far as I can ascertain no-one will spring to your aid until the police arrive, because everything has to be left untouched until they can deduce who was to blame for the accident. If this doesn’t trouble you, you’ll find it too hot to wear a lid and impossible to find insurance.
Language difficulties prevented me from finding out whether or not they have such things as driving tests (so much for professional journalism) but judging by the traffic chaos I very much doubt it. The major problem is that there are far too many cars to fit into the available road space in the centre of town. Long, long queues of cars stretched out, only slightly relieved by the cars swinging from lane to lane. Hundreds of small two-strokes flit in and out of this traffic in an apparently random manner.
Viewed from the relatively safe pavements (save for rabid looking dogs, huge potholes and dubious looking youths) it all looks quite insane and a quick way of committing suicide. Viewed from the seat of a motorcycle that works well enough not to intrude into one’s concentration, it’s a whole new ballgame.
Unlike their western counterparts, Thai drivers are actually aware of their surroundings and will acknowledge the existence of screaming two wheel devices. This is probably because economic reality for most Thais means they have to start their road life on either pushbikes or motorcycles and are all too aware of the precarious nature of their existence.
That said, there are still dangers. The most common cause of motorcycle accidents appears to be dumb canines wandering out into the road, although if any of the diarrhoea inducing Chinese restaurants I was unfortunate enough to visit are any guide, if you survive such collisions you can always sell off the carcass.
I actually managed to borrow a Kawasaki AR140, which is similar to the AR125 on sale here, save that it has drum brakes and a broader spread of power. I did have the chance of borrowing a Honda CB750K but decided that it would have been pointless trying to shove such mass through the traffic (alright, l was shit scared of the big heap in this context).
The water-cooled Kawa proved ideal in the dense traffic. It was so well balanced that I could manoeuvre around the cars at little more than walking speed. Like London traffic, the pace is tremendous and you have to make a mental effort to adapt if you’re not used to it. Fortunately, they drive on the same side of the road as us, so there’s one less problem to worry over.
One ride of about three miles after a liquid lunch sticks in the mind. The sun was high and the only way to stay cool was to ride as fast as possible. The chaos was at its worst, it really did make London look like a quiet and sane scene. The race started off with a maniac in a Tuk-Tuk (a three wheel golf trolley with handling that makes a Plastic Pig look safe) who could use the narrowness of his machine to sneak between the lines of traffic. He was trying to mow me down until I did a sudden right turn between a couple of cars, slicing in front of a sixties Honda CB72, whose rider took such effrontery as an excuse for a race.
The most dangerous moment in Thai traffic occurs when cars and taxis go past temples because the drivers take their hands off the wheel to offer a prayer to the Buddha. Thus when I tried to lose the CB72 by doing an illegal right turn into a road with a temple at the corner and run up a bus lane for a few yards, I encountered a beat up Datsun veering into my path - the driver grinned happily as he put his hands back on the wheel and swerved his car in front of a bus.
Then the engine tried to cut out and I almost ran down a rather beautiful young Thai girl as the bike lurched around whilst I fiddled with the reserve tap; by the time I’d sorted that out a coach was playing tag with my number plate and using that favourite Thai instrument of torture the horn. As Thai coach drivers are famed for driving whilst drunk I quickly turned down some back lanes.
The scenery off the main road is always interesting, the kind of mixture of wooden shacks and high rise apartment blocks that would give a good socialist enough ammunition to call for the world-wide abolition of capitalism, save that the Thais have the civilised habit of locking up communists before they can make any trouble.
In the centre of Bangkok the one way system means you could travel miles out of your way unless you know the short cuts down the back lanes.
The only problem with the back roads is that the Tuk-Tuk drivers cut up the rest of the traffic, trying to deliver their passengers as quickly as possible, but there’s the odd stretch where a relatively cool seventy can be attained. Whilst enjoying such speed I was suddenly brought back to reality by a truck carrying bottles of Coke turning into my half of the road. An excursion off the side of the road into a sewage filled ditch solved that problem. I didn’t actually fall off and the depth of the muck was such that I didn’t even get my feet wet. It did take three attempts to get the Kawa up the side of the ditch.
I decided to head back to the main road after that mishap, with about two thirds of the journey completed, hopeful that I’d arrive home safely. Apart from the odd pothole, a sudden tropical downpour and ignoring the demands of a police officer to stop, I did manage to return to the sanctuary of an air conditioned flat.
Anyway, riding bikes in Bangkok is great fun, especially as their winter is as hot as our hottest summer and you don’t have to wear a crash helmet, and no-one seems to give a damn about minor traffic misdemeanours and bikes are so cheap to hire and run.
Bill Fowler