Riding in Phuket |
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I'm sitting at a red light, the last lights before the hills between Phuket Town and the beachside tourist district of Patong, my valiant metal steed thumping that mellow V-twin drum between my knees.
I'm surrounded by a variety of 80 - 125 cc bikes in various states of (dis)repair. Each one unique in some way, this one has a fast food store bolted to the side of it, another has a cart with a fully grown pig inside, drawn by the rider sitting on the handle, another is just a skeleton, no lights, no bodywork, only what it needs to run, over to the right is a very young man/boy, his mount looks like a million Baht, fake carbon-fibre, coloured anodised aluminium everywhere, "sponsorship" stickers, stainless steel expansion chamber with carbon fibre muffler and through a hole carefully cut in the plastic pokes the end of a bright blue anodised aluminium induction horn...
A lot of the traffic lights in Thailand have a digital timer display, 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. green and we're off! The locals either dawdle away in a lazy fashion (after weaving past 50 cars at the lights, which now have to try to get around them again), or they claw their way frantically to whatever top speed their particular machine will reach.
I ease the clutch out and I'm presently tooling along at a speed which I judge to be appropriate, it's often necessary to guess an appropriate speed in Thailand as there are few signs to provide guidance, soon passing some of the bikes which screamed off ahead of me at the lights and soon being passed by shiny new turbo diesel 4WDs, the drivers of which seem hell-bent on self-destruction, and uncaring of who they may take with them.
Soon the gradient lifts and I'm past the diminutive Mike Doohans whose 110 four-stroke automatics can't cope with a head wind, much less an incline. Into the first turn, and I turn-in under the first of the dark skinned Dick Johnson's Toyota turbo, roll on the throttle, the drums get louder and the front lifts, past the coach that left town as I was donning my salad bowl (er... helmet, ah... the plastic cap the police want the rider to wear, presumably for sun protection, it would be no protection from anything else...)
Tipping into another turn around the outside of the 125cc MotoGP step-through as he goes around the outside of a clapped-out Songteow (a pick-up with bench seats in the back and a tin roof, a Thai taxi/bus) crammed full of school children and monks, this thing is doing a whole 20kph but the driver still seems to feel he has to take a "racing line" through the corners, it's just the Thai way... finally some clear road, and time for a bit of fun! Sweeping through the bends getting a good line here, another through there, rushing from apex to apex, into a tight right-hander, scrape the pegs and wind on the throttle the rear starts to drift and the front starts to lift, mid corner, GOD what an awesome feeling!
Ease off gently to get everything in shape again, brake hard and tip in to the next bend, oh! Series of bends... beautiful!
Swing low sweet chariot left, right, left, right, this is great! Damn! Have to dodge a car from the other direction on my side of the road and I fluff the next bend...
Shit! What's everyone blasting their horn for? Oh, a Wat Prathat (temple with Buddha relics inside)... dutifully toot my horn 3 times to show respect and the bend tightens, goes downhill and becomes off-camber, took me by surprise, if it was wet I'm sure I'd have lost it... hauling the bike over further and further while feathering the brakes trying to wash off speed but not wanting to skid, grinding the footpegs along the road and still tipping it over more... Pulse racing as the bend opens up, I wind on the throttle more gently this time and remember to breath... whew, made it!
Looking down the hill the good part's over. Just a straight downhill run to the first traffic lights of Patong. I've caught-up with more cars, bikes, buses and trucks all trying to overtake each other, on whatever side of the road, in whatever direction... time to play safe again... oh! I forgot about my pillion, I wonder how she feels about my behaviour?
By Request... recounting a tale of a day in Victoria, Australia, The Great Ocean Road!
