For Brock, wherever I may find him

I jump onto my motorcycle this morning and throw him into second gear as first has stopped working and instead only makes a grinding noise. Then I hammer on the crank starter and actually work up a sweat before the thing fires up.

Now I head out of town, raincoat on as light rain ensues. Not to mention cold. Make excellent time.

At some point, look down to see key gone from ignition.

Weather turns hot and I stop to remove layers. start up again and hopes that first gear has fixed itself are dashed.

Stop for food. Downshift. Something's different. Look down. Shifter knob thing has fallen off. However, it's balanced on the footrest.

Somehow get to Rua Xe to put it back on. Guy asks me first off if I want to wash my moto. Bad sign. Then grabs wrench to fix problem.

Immediately cleans shifter thing, then removes a washer and spring and hands them to me in a cigarrett box. "don't you need those?" "No no no." Hammers shifter way too far onto shaft, ut luckily casing over engine is broken and still allows movement.

Show him problem with first gear. Says no, then yes, the sits down to smoke cigarrette. Good indication that Rua Xe doesn't really mean "mechanic" I leave.

Go to check gear at other place.

Guy props up bike, removes casing to reveal crankshaft and chain. Pokes at them.

Starts engine. Reveals nothing as he hasn't done anything.

Pokes more.

Takes off crankshaft thing.

Cotinues looking at it as Zoolander and his computer.

I zone out completely, taking the time to :
1) Give in to the fact that my small investment is wholly lost at the mental image of me tryig to walk into a shop and, in vietnamese, explain that I want to sell a bike with no key, no first gear, and no registration that uses too much gas for the locals to afford.
2) Pick the heinous reflective decals from my pants.

Zone back in to find nothing accomplished, but work now being done on the inside of the crankshaft thing as they think it's teeth are not grabbing. Obvious to anyone with eyes, this is not the problem. He goes so far as to cut notches out of a washer to place said washer over front of other piece and screw it in place.

Gets on bike and looks at me with satisfaction at having fixed the problem. I get up and show him he's not in first, at which point he puts it in first and the grinding resumes.

Pokes some more and says "First doesn't work. Use 2-4."

Thanks.


Head toward Saigon, and am inundated by cars and trucks. Signs indicate two lanes for these vehicles, and the SHOULDER for motos.

Very slow going, thank god, because otherwise I would die.

Dodge chaotic highway to reach the more absurd chaos of Saigon, where it's perfectly ok to drive the wrong way amidst thousands of motos so long as you honk first.

Fearing for life and limb, but mostly just going at it like I own the place (in second gear), I dodge cars and trucks to hit the sidewalk every once in a while and see that I still don't know where I am.

SOmehow I manage to stumble upon Pham Ngu Lao - complete luck.

Park bike in front of hotel and try to explain that I don't care if they bring it inside, as I'd rather it get stolen. Fail at this explanation.

Move bike to remote place nearby with no hotels on street.

Meet guy at Bia Hoi corner who fought in Vietnam with the Ozzies.

Walk back by bike just out of curiosity to see if it's still there. Nearest hotel has MOVED it to in front of it and the owner somehow recognizes me from a long way coming. Yells at me. Stunned, I yell "No no no. Khong knong khong." And run the other direction scared that he'll follow me.

Next day, woman at my hotel finally figures out what's going on, and inquires as to the price. I tell her just to take the damn thing, but that's no good for her. So, next morning we sneak over to the hotel, where the guys are pissed at me for leaving the thing, so she gives them $3 for the trouble, and gives me my last night in the hotel free - a $3 value.

This is how my short time on a motorcylce in Vietnam came to a close.