We decided on a mid afternoon visit to Ubon. Nothing strange or unusual with that decision, except it was a treat after three days working on the house in sweltering conditions.
The re-painting of Owerrrouse is almost complete - well at least on the outside. I am certain we are going to paint inside as well, but one job at a time.
So, on the motorbike and into Ubon. Of course, in the west we take road safety very seriously and would not think about going out on a motorbike without a sturdy crash helmet. The law is catching up in Thailand and it is now compulsory to wear a helmet whilst either driving a motorbike or as a passenger. Except the law doesn't work in most rural villages and it is a common, often humorous sight, to see children as young as 12 or 13 riding a motorbike with great skill. The bike looks twice as big as they are, and very often they don't even wear shoes, never mind a crash helmet!
The law is a bit more strict in the urban areas, so with due regard to our safety as well as the law, we comply. However, there is a shortage of crash helmets in Owerrrouse, so we have borrow them. Khamma's is new, looks good and fits her well and belongs to her nephew. Mine is old, small and belongs to her cousin. We find it on the floor of the porch covered in dust. It is red and makes me look like an unlit match. I think of myself as a Swan Vesta. If something more severe than an ice lolly were to hit it, I'm certain it would crack my skull; the helmet not the ice lolly. It is more a hindrance than an essential aid to one's safety. It's no use complaining, I just wear it and sit on the back of the motorbike in a sulky silence knowing that I am complying with law, but in all probability if there were an accident, I am a goner. Did I re-write my Will?
I know next to nothing about motorbikes. I do know that a motor drives a chain, which is connected to the back wheel. This is how the bike moves. Over time, the chain becomes slack and if left unchecked it will become slacker and start to make a clattering noise. Today, the motorbike is suffering from what I describe to Khamma as a 'slack chain clatter'. No, she didn't understand either. However, we have a quick discussion and decide to call in at one of the myriad of roadside motorcycle repair garages. Back in England I'm sure you would have to make a booking for about 2 weeks in advance, but in this part of world, you can just drive in and ask the man to fix the problem.
The man in question today I nickname after Kevin Webster from Coronation Street. A cheeky grin, a sharp intake of breath and the words come out;
'Yer lookin at a big job 'ere pal. It's goin to cost ya a bob or two. Just sayin like!'
No sooner had I placed the top end of my Swan Vesta (the crash helmet) on the makeshift swing our Kevin had made out of old tyres, tow rope and an ancient motorcycle seat, than I saw two gleaming crash helmets in their dusty plastic bags. It didn't long to convince me to buy one, and at 360 bhat (£7) it seemed a snip.
Meanwhile, Kevin (that's not his real name) was busy tightening the chain, which took him about 5 minutes. He took the bike for a test drive, but his little daughter, who looked all of three years old, insisted on going with him. She stood the bike, held onto the mirrors and Dad drove off, into oncoming traffic, round the block. Luckily it was a quiet moment on Highway 2050 and they returned safe, both smiling, Kevin because he tightened the chain enough, daughter because she had been on ride with Dad.
Now here is where Kevin really impressed me. Ever since we bought the motorbike (Honda Wave - what else?), the front nearside handle bar panel has rattled. Experts and non experts alike have tried in vain to stop the rattle, but all have failed. However, Kevin knew exactly what the problem was, and in less than two minutes dis-assembled the entire panel and located the issue. An inner panel protecting the wiring for the lights, indicators and horn was not correctly fitted. All it need was a thick rubber washer and the rattle was gone. However, keen eyed Kevin also spotted some cabling that had become exposed. This was confirmed by Khamma who said the indicators hadn't worked for weeks! So Kevin wrapped some insulation tape around the cable, fixed the rattle, re-assembled the handle bar unit, tightened the chain and had the audacity to charge me 20 bhat - about 45 pence!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I get told off for not charging enough for a Will!
I am going back later this week so he can service the bike from front to back, top to bottom. Customer service, first class. I recommend Kevin from Yankerdow (the name of the village) for his workmanship. So we put on our helmets and began to look like proper bikers. OK that's taking it a little too far, but set off again for Ubon.
Our slight diversion was at the expense of losing some daylight. It goes dark in these parts at 6:00pm and it is wise not to ride a motorcycle in the dark. The only thing worse is driving in the dark in a thunderstorm. As we left Ubon the dark clouds of Issan assembled to rage their anger on the flat lands of north east Thailand. It started to thrash with rain. We bought cheap plastic rain jackets (like the old Pac-a-Macs) in the vain hope of keeping dry. They were useful, but I can't think why; it just seemed the logical thing to do. As we left Big C a shallow wave of water, only about a centimetre high, steady flowed into the car park like a tsunami, from the street. Just outside the car park we were driving through a foot of water and in danger of drowning the bike. Khamma's riding skills saw us through the worst, but not for long as stretches of the road, and the houses alongside it, began to flood.
We kept on going as it grew darker, rained harder and lightening struck in the distance. My new helmet kept most of the water off my face, but my new cheap plastic rain jacket completely failed to keep me dry. It was a difficult journey home, but Khamma has done this many times.
Now as I sit in Owerrrouse musing over the eventful afternoon, I marvel at the way the Thai people 'just get on with it'. It being life. They don't ask for favours, they are resourceful and very skilled with getting on with life. Have we in the west lost touch with these skills and attitudes? It is a bit like the bridge issue I wrote of earlier this week. There's the problem, this is the solution, now let's get on with it and four weeks later everyone's life is better. In the west we are too good at looking for problems, then forming committees to find a solution, listening to everyone from health and safety to regulation of standards and quangos, then deciding it is too expensive. Result; the issue gets worse. I know that's simplistic, but watching Kevin today made me a little humble and very thoughtful. We have a lot to learn, still.
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