Growing up in the New York City borough of Queens, transportation consisted of buses and subways or a riding a bike (the non motorized variety). Later, as a teenager, when my grandmother bought herself a new red Mustang, I acquired her thirteen year old, green and white, 1954 Mercury; and was thrilled to have it. The only people, who drove motorcycles, in my neighborhood, were Hell’s Angel types and hipsters.

So, why is it that when we move halfway around the world to Thailand, we throw all caution to the wind and do things that never would have occurred to us to do at home? I guess when we’re so far from home; normal rules of common sense and safety no longer apply. Especially in Fun City (aka Pattaya), anything goes. It is, after all, the ‘extreme city.’ Although I had been a passenger on a motorcycle, perhaps, two or three times in my previous life and had never operated one myself, I figured what the hell, this is Thailand. I can do anything. Anyway, I knew how to ride a bicycle. How difficult could it be to ride a motorized one? Figuring that I didn’t want to deal with changing gears and kick starting the contraption, I rented an automatic, electric start motorbike. As soon as I pulled out of the rental place, on Theppasit Road, I lost control of the bike, careened across the wide thoroughfare and smacked into a line of parked motorbikes, flipping one on its side. The gentleman, who rented me the motorbike, came running across the road, with the owner of the injured bike in tow. I thought he’d be upset, but he was very pleasant about the whole incident. Fortuitously, he was also a mechanic and was happy to repair the damaged bike, at my expense, of course.

Actually, that was not my first motorbike mishap. Prior to my foray into operating these things, I was walking into a pharmacy when I happened to brush against a parked bike. As is common here, I was wearing shorts, and I brushed against the exhaust pipe of the aforementioned vehicle. Wow, did that hurt! Of course, the pipe was scalding hot. The skin on my calf popped, sizzled and burned. I was definitely barbecued. I guess that was my first ‘weeping wound’ and it took a good couple of months to heal. I learned to have a healthy respect for parked motorcycles and to stay clear of them.

A few months after my first mishap as a motorbike rider, I decided that I was now a seasoned ‘biker’ and could handle the various ups and downs of tooling around Pattaya’s finely maintained roads. I bought myself a Honda Click automatic, which is about as powerful as an electric tooth brush, but suited my modest needs. I was leaving Jomtien Beach, one fine day, when for reasons best known to my arm and hand, I did not release the throttle as I was exiting the parking lot. Losing control and gaining speed, I smashed into a parked car and a very angry American read me the riot act. Actually, there was only a small scratch on his Toyota. I gave him five thousand baht and he was on his way.

As the years went by, my motorbike riding skills became somewhat more proficient; except taking passengers (especially heavy farangs) has always been a bit precarious. They certainly ride on the pillion of my bike at their peril. We sway left and right, hope for the best and thank the gods of the road when we arrive alive. Anyone who rides on the back of my Honda has to sign and have notarized a ten page document absolving me of any responsibility should he experience grievous bodily harm or death while riding with me. Of course, that discourages most from taking the risk, which is fine with me.

Most of the time, my little jaunts go without incident. However, about a month ago, I was returning home from the local convenience store, when a stupid farang cut across my path on his motorbike. I jammed on the hand brakes and my bike promptly fell, throwing me onto the rutted, pocked and rock strewn road (which is typical of Pattaya’s screwed up infrastructure). Although no bones were broken, I suffered major abrasions to my elbow and knee, which needed nine stitches. That wound, after over a month is still healing. Actually, there’s a fairly large crevice in my right knee. You can actually plant the flags of Thailand and the USA in it, simultaneously. By the way, I always wear my helmet, even if I’m just going on a short errand and even if the police aren’t around. I don’t want to damage any of the memory cells I still have left. Note to my Thai friends: screw your hairdo and wear your damned helmet.

Why, then, do I use such a dangerous contraption? I guess most Pattayans, who own cars can answer that. The roads are in horrendous shape; traffic is atrocious and parking is difficult. A ten minute trip on a motorbike can take an hour by automobile. The sois are so narrow and cluttered with pushcarts and other obstruction, that it’s a major miracle if one can get from the beginning to the end of a soi without upsetting an applecart, so to speak. Anyway, we’re far away from home in an exotic country and in an extreme city. Therefore, anything goes; right?