“Sar, I don’t want you to be mad, but…”
Those were the ominous words Ben started with as he poked his head into the stilted house where we were staying in Northern Thailand. It was odd that he didn’t come into the bungalow right away, but I soon found out why. When he fully opened up the door, I burst into tears.
His clothes were shredded. Chunks of his shirt that should’ve been up by his chest were hanging down by his belt, and the pieces of his shirt that were still intact were sliced through. His pants were not much better, especially at the knees, and he was covered in blood and dirt.
But, lets back up for a second. We had arrived a few days earlier to Pai, a town in the Mae Hong Son Province in Northern Thailand. We’d rented a traditional stilted house just outside the city, surrounded by rice paddies for a week of exploring and relaxation. Our first few days were spent doing a bunch of the stuff in and around Pai, but in order to experience the real beauty of this region of the world, you need a vehicle, and in most of Asia, that means a motorbike.
I will freely admit that I was nervous about riding a motorbike, also called a moto. My only experience riding a motorcycle was nearly a decade earlier when I was working at a newspaper in Southeastern Minnesota. As a reporter, I often worked with photographers for stories, and one photographer drove a motorcycle. That meant when we covered a story together, we would often take his bike to the assignment. I hated it. I am awful at leaning into turns because I feel like the bike will tip over, and he was a bit of a daredevil, so I had a bad taste in my mouth.
However, I knew this was going to be one fear I was going to have to get over in order to travel to most of the places we wanted to see over the upcoming months. But that morning, I wasn’t ready to face that fear. So, when Ben asked if I wanted to rent a motorbike and drive around, I passed. I told him I was afraid I was going to crash and get hurt, so I wanted to take a lesson first.
He ventured out on his own and returned several hours later, bloody and bruised.
It isn’t uncommon, especially in Pai, to see foreigners like ourselves walking around with bandages on their legs and arms from motorbike accidents. In fact, the locals have coined a term for it, a “Thai tattoo.”
But I wasn’t prepared to see Ben so thoroughly scuffed.
It turns out that during his ride in the mountains around Pai, he happened to be following a truck with huge blue barrels in the back. When the truck went over a bump, it sent the gravel that was in those blue barrels all over the road. Ben wasn’t able to brake before his wheels were on the gravel. His wheels slid out, and he went down.
According to him (and confirmed by the remnants of his clothing), he slid on his belly across the gravel and proceeded to do a “superman” of sorts, which left him with severe road rash on his palms, forearms, stomach, knees, and shins. He credits his belt buckle with saving him from worse damage.
And, since he was by himself on this adventure, he had to get back on the bike that was scuffed but still running, like him, and drive back to Pai. When he got back to the place where he rented the moto, the owner didn’t even look at the motorbike, and instead took Ben immediately to the pharmacy. It was just one of the many instances of incredible kindness that we experienced on the road.
It took nearly a week of laying low, resting, and several more trips to the pharmacy for salve and bandages before he was almost as good as new, and it was time for me to overcome this moto fear.
We both went to a local shop that offered moto lessons, and I spent 30 minutes driving up and down a small side street in Pai learning how to accelerate, stop, turn, and feel more comfortable on two wheels.
In the upcoming months, we ended up renting motor in nearly every country we visited and have seriously considered buying one to use around our neighborhood here in Minnesota. My, how times have changed from that fateful day in Pai.
