Stories Vol 16: Ditching the Training Wheels

 

Riding that motorbike the first day in Pai was absolutely fantastic! For me it was reminiscent of the day I got my first big kid bicycle when I was four. My Family had just moved to New York from rural Minnesota and we had been in our new home for a little less than a year. One of our neighbors asked my parents if I wanted their son's old bike. He was four years older than me and had out grown it long before that. I idolized the neighbor boy, he was four years older than me and was the pinnacle of cool for my four year old self.  I was pumped to be getting his blue and black camo bike.

 

My dad being a Type A safety first by the book kind of father quickly affixed it with training wheels. Once he was finished, he set me on the seat and told me to pedal. I pushed down on the pedal expecting ease in moving it but was met with resistance as you always are when starting to pedal from a motionless bike. I try again and this time with all my strength I push the pedal forward. The feeling is what I now imagine a freed prisoner would have. It's euphoric, for the first time I could go fast and boy did I ever. I booked it out of that drive way and road my cycle in front of the drive way.

 

It was easy; it was natural. After a few minutes, I turned my bike around and pedaled back to where my dad was standing. I told him to take the training wheels off. I was a big boy. I didn't want them. My dad's response was one of resistance but he appeased me. As he handed the bike over the second time, he held on to me, like any parent would, ensuring I wouldn't fall. Knowing better this time, I threw my weight down onto the pedals and propelled myself forward. My dad had no choice but to release his support. And with that I belted down the block. Pedaling as fast as I could. I was free.

 

While the motorbike in Pai was more like a cross between a moped and a dirt bike, the feeling of being out on the road cruising at 80km/hour was a new and freeing experience for me. I have always been terrified of bikes. As I mentioned my friends dad had lost his leg in an accident. Since then, I have avoided them at great lengths.

 

When Tom threw around the idea that he was contemplating driving a bike back from Pai to Chiang Mai. The only answer I could hear in my head was YES!!! All through out our first night, I tried to seed the idea even further in Tom's head as a good idea. Every time he seemed hesitant I would add "Seriously, if you bike to Pai I will as well." In hind sight I'm not sure if this was helping the case but I got the feeling that he did not want to do it alone.

 

 

After we finally committed to doing it during breakfast on our final day, I was in a euphoric state of excitement. The idea to be concerned about my safety as a new driver did not even cross my mind. I thought of a ton of things: my friend from General Mills, Alex French, and how he would kill to do a ride like this. Him and I had spent the last 4 months doing lunch workouts every so often and getting licensed to ride motorcycles was a frequent topic we brought up.

 

Tom and I were a little behind our schedule for getting the bikes, when we finally checked in. We had split off from the girls and the route we took to the additional waterfall was way farther than the map suggested. It took us 45 minutes just to get there going 30-40km/hr and the map said it was only 10k away. Lesson learned: Don't trust Thai maps…lol

 

Given the motorbikes we were using were crap, we decided that it would be best if we upgraded our bikes and paid the extra $1.25 USD for a nice scooter in pristine condition. The total cost for the trip was around 640 Baht or $20 USD. This included the fee for porting our bags from Pai to Chiang Mai in the Minivan. I didn't know it then but this would be the best $20 bucks I'd spend on my trip. That ride alone was worth $200 to me.

 

As for the ride itself, the only way I can describe it is with the word "MENTAL or "UNREAL." Given my inexperience, Tom lead the way through the curvy mountain pass. He set the pace at a low but reasonable pace of 40-60km/hour. Taking it slow, we had the opportunity to take in each and every view of the surrounding mountain valleys, forest pathways and so much more.

 

In a Texan accent I hear in my thoughts, "Now Morgan, you be sure to take back every sight, sound and taste."

 

My friend Mark's words echo through my thoughts. I don't want to ever forget this ride. I don't want to forget how my mind effortless slips into a state of imagination at each sharp winding bend pulling me from this life into a video game obstacle course. I am in the moment but not. At times, I actually feel like that 4 year boy riding the bike for the first time pretending it is a motorcycle. I rev the engine and hear the bike switch gears in my imagination.

 

 

The more and more, I let myself indulge in the pure amazingness of this ride, the more and more I do not want to forget it. Before leaving Pai, I had removed my camera and placed it in a holder right below the handle bars of the bike. I had figured we might stop and enjoy a view. The camera would serve to document the potential moment. As I sat there riding behind Tom, I was transfixed on preserving the memory and the camera was too easily accessible.

 

While the road itself was easy to manage, especially given the pace we were going, my only concern was the on coming traffic. This is the road is the most windy in Thailand and the local drivers do not use caution when taking the turns. As we come to a bend, Tom slows and looks up the hill around the hidden curves for oncoming vehicles. Despite this, often times we still were surprised by a car whipping around the turn pushing us to the far shoulder of the road near the cliff. Making one mistake, the reality of turning too sharply to avoid a car and riding off the road is all to real.

 

Despite my better judgment, as you can see I can't resist documenting the experience. I watch Tom slow to round a bend and do the same. As I slow, I remove my left hand from the handle bar and grab for my camera. I put it between my legs and thread my hand through the wristlet. I put the case back in holder and with my left thumb turn the camera only.

 

With the camera on automatic, I point it in the direction of Tom. I can't see the screen or take the time to make sure I'm framing any sort of picture. I pray to the travel gods that I'm getting good shots. With each photo I take, I get more and more confident to the point that the idea of a motorcycle selfie pops in my head. I used to hate the selfie, but more and more over the last year, I've become numb to the vainness and ridiculousness of it. There in the moment I decide to yet again embrace the selfie.

 

As I take the photo, a car comes speeding past me. The wind tunnel it creates pulls my bike to a wobble. I throw my hand back on the left bar to steady the bike. My heart begins to race and the rush of adrenaline from fear kicks in. I put the camera away and decide to focus on the road.

 

We drive for what seems like an hour, when we come across a coffee shop tucked away in the mountain road. Tom slows and puts his blinker on. I follow suit. In the process of parking our bikes, I turn to Tom and flash a look of guilt.

 

"Soooooo…I might have done something stupid." My voice rises to an upbeat on the word stupid.

 

Tom looked slightly confused but upon seeing the camera, he knows what I've done. "Yeah, that was fucking stupid. They better be worth it."

 

"They're pretty freaking good!...... Worth it." I answer back.

 

During our coffee and cheese cakes in this middle of nowhere café resort, we look through the pictures. They are pretty phenomenal. By far the best souvenir I will have from the trip. Tom and I echo each others euphoria.

 

Mark--if you are reading this, thank you for the words. Wouldn’t have documented the moment had it not been for the words.

 

Finishing our coffee, we pack up and get on the road. Its 5:45 and we had promised Vanessa/Fleur that we would be back for an opening pool party at our hostel at 6. We still had an hour and a half on the road.

 

During the back half of the ride, I find myself back in a state of introspection and reflection. I think about the conversations I've had with my many travel companions. I hear the questions pouring through my thoughts, jumping in what seems like a random way, the different topics. 

 

What do I want to do when I get back? What do I need to be happy?

 

Did I make the right decision?

 

How am I going to let go of what has happened? I need to let go.

 

I'm moving, is it too late for sorry?

 

Maybe I should tell him.