May 26, 2004

Driving In Thailand
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

-Part 1-

As you can see by the title, this story is about driving in Thailand. --WARNING--What you are about to read is not for the faint hearted. Don't try to replicate these stunts unless you are a professionally trained American drunk driver with at least 30 years of training. If you have heart problems, a pace maker, hemorrhoids, bad night vision, high blood pressure, low blood pressure, diabetes, bladder problems, or a short temper when driving on roads with small asiatic mental patients who seem bent on suicide and drive like they are being chased by all the demons of hell, DO NOT attempt to re-create these actions!

Well, to start off, I had been in Thailand this time for about 3 weeks. I had spent time in Bangkok, Phuket, Pattaya, Chiang Mai, and now was finally in Surin. (or Sue Lynn as my lady claims it is called and so cutely calls it) I checked into the Thong Tarin hotel after an exciting (not) 8 hour mini-van ride from Pattaya, which I swore I would never do again, but extenuating circumstances put this out of my control at this time.

Now, my lady lives in a village about an hour's drive from Surin. There are no taxis in Surin. The only transport is the three wheeled samlor bicycle taxis, and some tuk-tuk's, all who seem to usually just hang around the Surin Bus Depot day and night. What to do? Heeeeeey, just rent a truck or mini-van from the hotel front desk. No problem. So for 1,000 baht a day ($20 US at the time) I rented some guys personal vehicle for a week. A 1996 Toyota, Mighty X, extended cab pick-up truck, with all the trimmings. 100 good luck flower wreaths hanging from the rear view mirror, Buddha voodoo writings painted with what looks like white fingernail polish on the ceiling over my head, and 15 talisman thingies glued to the dash board for good luck too. Also thrown in were 5 cassette tapes of Lao cowboy music. What more can you ask for in personal safety and entertainment, huh? How about airbags, and a frigging steering column on the left (correct) side of the vehicle? Yeah, that's right, some guy's personal truck. They have a deal with the hotel to rent their autos to people in need of wheels when checked in the hotel. No money down, no credit card, no showing a drivers license, no extra insurance, shit, hardly even any freaking gas in the damn truck. Okay, no problem. I can do this. By the way, most of the vehicles use diesel fuel, and it is cheap. 300 baht fills the tank from almost empty and lasts 2 or 3 days of driving, unless you decide to tour the countryside extensively, as I did. (It did then anyway. Prices have gone up.) I don't know about you other people, but I'm from New England. There are a lot of Orientals/Asians where I live. (mostly Cambodians, Viets and Laos) In the U.S., in Boston anyways, the oriental driver is notoriously known as a slow, careful, and basically a pain in the ass type of driver. Maybe it is the shock of the cost of auto insurance that does this to them. I don't know. But something changes them from the total goddamned maniacs they are in their home country into the little old lady drivers we've come to abhor and despise in the states. Yeah, it's gotta be the insurance money. Most Thai guys I've encountered on the roads of Thailand drive like a cross between Evel Kinevel's evil twin brother and Mario Andretti. (Yeah, those names date me don't they?) They'll pass you on the crest of a hill. They'll pass you on a blind curve. They'll pass you with a Mac truck bearing down on them with lights flashing and inches to spare! They are totally freaking nuts! And this is in the parking lot. WOW! Insanity. These guys are crazy, man.

So I get the truck and park it in front of the hotel in the parking lot, and hit the sack for the night. I need my rest for an early morning pole position start in the Thailand Grand Prix. The next day my lady and I jump into the pick-up and head for the village. Happy village it's called. Sabai village. Well, it's not too bad of a start. The weather was a bit cloudy and rainy for most of my stay this trip, with only a few major cloud bursts per day. (Sense any sarcasm here anyone?) Now I'll tell you, I've driven all throughout Europe, and England and Ireland too, so this is not unfamiliar, driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, and shifting gears with the wrong hand. I've done it before, without too many problems. BUT! I've never had to deal with what seems like a million or two mental patients on motor scooters trying to hurl themselves to their deaths on the grill of my auto. Now I understand why most of the citizens I've met in Thailand have inumerable scars on their legs. Motor cyke trophies.

So I drive through Surin, trying not to splatter too many of these people, and manuveur myself around the three wheeled bicycle cyclo taxi guys without a one of them getting crushed. Oops! "Hey darling, can you ask that guy to get off the hood of our truck and drag his moped the hell out of the street please? Thank you darling." Where the hell did he come from? Finally we get beyond the city limits.

Ah! Some open road. "Which way darling?" I say to my lovely lady. This was my first time driving myself up to her village. Now some of you guys might not know it but Thai's don't point. It's not polite. They take their hand sideways like they're gonna give you a karate chop, and then fold it left or right for directions. I look at her, and she's flapping her hand to the left. Okay. This ain't gonna work. I take the left and pull over on the side of the road. "Listen," I say to her. "I can't be looking at your hands for directions while I'm driving here trying to avoid killing too many of your fellow countrymen. Just tell me, left, right, or straight. Okay?" She gives me this blank look. I realize then she has no idea of what left, right, or straight is in English. Shit. I hadn't realized this. So we have an impromtu English lesson on the side of the road. I never realized how hard it is for Thai's to say left, right, and straight. She's giving me let, lite, and stleht. She knows how to say 'stop' pretty good, but it's usually 50 yards past wherever the hell she wanted me to stop. I've noticed over the years that this little 'idiosyncracy' is not confined to just my lady either. A lot of Thais seem to do this for some reason. No spacial conceptuality at all. I can see that driving in Thailand is going to be a definite test of our relationship and love for each other. Okay, English lesson over we forge ahead.

I get up to about 100 kph, a good clip for this pissant little piece of tarmac I think. Nope. Every Thai guy behind me wants to pass me. I speed up. Doesn't matter. 110, 120, it still doesn't matter. They still want to pass me. I finally come to the conclusion that, no matter how fast I drive here, if there is a Thai guy behind me, he will try to pass. It's inbred or something. Now everyone is racing along at 100 kph or more on this crappy little two lane road. We come over the crest of a hill and there before me, right before me actually, I had to almost stand on the brakes to stop, is a line of about thirty cars all stuck behind a couple of overloaded trucks doing about 40 kph. Now I got to see the true Thai driver in action! Everyone is playing Thai leap frog with their respective autos trying to pass these two slow moving trucks, without getting splattered by the opposite on-coming traffic, which is all trying to do the same thing on their side of the road. Insane is the only word which truly fits here. And all along there are teenage mental mutants riding motorcycles and scooters as fast as they can on the side of the road. In the rain. With their hand over their eyes trying to see through the rain drops. WOW! Quite the rush! I felt like I was playing some sort of Sega or Nintendo driving game! Well, after 45 minutes or so of this shit we finally come to the "lite" hand turn to the village. I drive through a village of ramshackle huts and homes, seemingly built of whatever the heck could be scrounged up during the drier season before the next rainy season started. Amongst these hovels, sorry but that's what they are, is a sprinkling of nice houses. "Take a let on this highway." says my lady. "What highway darling?" I say, glancing about. "Here! Take a let on this highway." she directs me. I look to where she's flapping her hand and there is the entrance to a red mud road, filled with ruts and potholes, all filled with water. "Here?" I ask incredulously. "You actually called this mud trail a highway?" I say to her with amusement. She gives me a dirty look as I sit there laughing and said, "What funny, darling?" Which only makes me laugh harder. I try to explain to her that a red mud trail on top of a rice paddy dike, surrounded by a million acres of water filled rice paddies, would hardly be considered, or called, a "highway" by any stretch of the imagination. Another dirty look. She explains to me that the "highway" used to be about 10 feet lower, and would flood out every rainy season. So now they had raised the road, but haven't been able to finish and tar it, because there has been too much rain. It should be finished in a few months, once the rain stops. "Okay, darling?" she grumped. "Sorry for laughing at your highway darling." I say in apology. I could see that she was very proud of the fact that the village would soon have a highway that would not flood out anymore once finished, and make it easier for the villagers to go to Surin on their weekly journeys for supplies. I realised once again how proud these people are of their country, and why I liked them so much. I put the truck in first, took a "let" onto the mud trail, and slowly made the torturous drive along the new dike road to her Happy Village.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4