Riding a motorbike is a way of life in Phuket. You can get around without one, but it’s a hot and slow process.
Being back in Kamala I am yet to get my own bike. Luckily, I have been able to borrow a friend’s bike (Penelope – that’s the bike) while she is back home. Unfortunately the fuel gauge doesn’t work. All good when you are used to riding it and can guesstimate the fuel usage…not so good when you can’t.
Riding back from a meeting in Patong yesterday I notice that the bike is a little…jumpy. I drive carefully and slowly and wonder whether I should get it checked out. I make it to the top of the hill only to have the engine cut out leaving me with no acceleration. Out of fuel. At least I made it to the top, I think, as I glide the 2kms downhill back into town.
I manage to make it to the mechanic only to discover that he’s closed. And the man selling petrol in old whiskey bottles across the road is out too. I call for backup while trying to remain fairly inconspicuous – a tall blonde in 6 inch heels beside a broken bike stands out a little in my town. The cavalry arrives (with said whiskey bottle) and after refuelling and a kick start from a friendly Thai, I am on my way.
(This is what you what the ‘gas stand’ to have – full bottles!)
You would think that after this I would be a little more vigilant. No such luck. Driving today I am again going up a hill (seems to be a pattern here) before realising it may have been wise to actually refill the bike before setting out. A whiskey bottle can only go so far. I make it down the hill before the engine actually cuts out. This time I’m not in work attire and no where near a self-made petrol ‘station’ so have no choice but to push the bike back towards town.
(Should have stopped off and filled up…)
Out the front of the Hyatt (could I have chosen a more embarrassing spot to break down?) a lovely little Thai man stops to help me out. In Tinglish I tell him I am out of ‘gas’. He calls his friend over and before I know it I am sitting on the side of the road while they ride in tandem towards town – one sitting on and steering my bike and the other riding his and pushing mine along with his foot.
Sitting staring at the ocean I reflect that it may not have been the smartest move to let a strange man take my bike from me and ride into the sunset. I start to panic, envisaging having to buy my friend a new bike and wondering if I can somehow match the colour without her knowing when I hear ‘lady!’ being called out. It’s back! My knight in shining armour refuses any money and promptly sets off again, no doubt in search of another damsel in distress to rescue.
