Thai on a Bike

The Adventures of Kevin Ryan

Motorcycling in the Golden Triangle of Thailand

Spring 1999

She took my hand and put it on her thigh, pushing it slowly up toward her micro-mini skirt until I encountered a bump. She said, “Be careful,” as I realized it was a scar from a motorcycling accident. When you tell people you are going to Thailand for a vacation, they ask whether you are going with someone. If you are, they assume it is for the beaches. If you go alone, they assume it is for the women. I went for neither. I motorcycled for a week among the hill tribe peoples and opium drug overlords of northern Thailand, an area called the Golden Triangle. I saw a Thailand very few others do, and I consider it my best vacation ever.

It all started on the Internet. My wife decided to give me 10 days as a present for our 10th Anniversary so I could visit a place in Asia that she was not interested in, which could have been pretty much anywhere. My first thought was to go to either Vietnam or Nepal. Ticket prices and scheduling made these difficult. Thailand was somewhere exotic but convenient. With my fair skin, though, I was not interested in the beaches (I also don’t like to lie around all day). Searching for interesting areas, I decided to focus on the North of Thailand. That is when I encountered David Unkovich’s page. I had given up motorcycling when I got married, so I knew I was a little rusty. I emailed David for a copy of his two books on motorcycling in Northern Thailand.

He emailed back saying that he was available as a “guide.” Officially, I would join the motorcycle club there and pay dues that went into his pocket. This way we could get around the law that each group had to have a Thai national as a guide. His rates were very reasonable. I flew into Bangkok (pop: 9 million) late evening of St. Patrick’s Day 1999. I stayed at a hotel near the airport for about 6 hours, rising early to make the flight to Chiang Mai (pop: 200,000) the next day. I arrived at the capital of northern Thailand without incident. There were no touts at the airport, so I contracted a taxi for what the guidebook said. This country is really getting it together, both socially and economically. Having arrived at the end of the tourist season, there was never any problem with booking. Reservations anywhere for anything were unnecessary. I had arranged to meet David at the hotel he recommended, Nice Apartments. The manager was a soft-spoken mousy woman that proved to be a most helpful ally in my acquaintance with Thailand. She had a local guidebook already marked with different colors for the different kinds of activities. I paid my $6 for an air-conditioned room (no need, but the $4 fan rooms were all taken). I had an hour to take a short walk to get sun screen and see some streets before David arrived.

I’m waiting in the covered porch-cum-lobby as he blusters in on his Honda 250 MX-1, a hybrid street/off-road bike. He is skinnier than in his pictures. He is a bit wild-eyed as he explains he was up till 5:30 AM chatting up some new college co-eds in a bar. He managed to make a lunch appointment with them for that day. We had just enough time to go buy his book from the local bookstore and then meet them (around the corner from my hotel, as it turned out). I jump on the back of his bike as he tells me he is still feeling the effects of last night’s imbibing.

As we pull out into the chaos called traffic on Main Street along the old moat next to the ancient city walls, I balance on the back and align my head right behind his. I notice the arch above the plastic strap in his baseball cap is adorned with the saying, “Crazy is Good.” I wonder what I’ve gotten my self into.

He proves to be an adept driver in heavy traffic, though, and we have time to stop for money as well as books before meeting the girls. At 23 and 24, Aom and Kaen are older than most university students, but more worldly. They study accounting and have no visible means of support except possibly rich parents. They are remarkably animated after the first couple of beers, and I feel a twinge of good feeling as I notice the other foreigners look at us with a mix of disgust and envy, for David is jabbering away in Thai, and keeping me up to speed on the conversation. This is a pattern that he reproduces throughout the trip. We are with the two classiest chicks in the joint. After 3 hours and several beers, the girls have to go to class. We rent my motorcycle.

I take a short nap and try out the bike around town. I get lost and then find my way back. Wheels give you mobility that public or even chartered transportation can’t. David meets me at nine and we go to the girl’s apartment to take them to the best restaurant in Chiang Mai, the Westside. The girls are worn out, but the river is like glass, reflecting the Christmas lights on the other shore. It is another restaurant, and I come to realize that Christmas lights are used year-round here to signify places of entertainment or dining. The other remarkable thing is that there were no mosquitoes. The girls perked up toward the end of the night, but we dropped them off at home as we were readying to take off the next morning.

 Chilly at night, the next morning proves to be the pattern for the rest of the trip, mild in the morning, hot but not sweltering in the afternoon, and cool in the evening. The only regrettable trait in the weather was the haziness that was a result of the temperature inversion and burning of old foliage for which this was the season (early dry season, before things turned to tinder).

We trade bikes with the rental agency, which accepts David’s assessment that there is something wrong with my bike electrically. The new bike works flawlessly for the rest of the trip, at $15 a day. It is the same kind as David’s. I strap my backpack on the luggage rack, David lends me a pair of motocross pants, a jacket and a helmet, and off we go.