So, my bike was “fixed” and ready for pickup this morning. After replacement of multiple parts and an extra day with the mechanic, I had confidence that this time all would work out.
This morning it was drizzling again so I decided to move a little slower. I got up at 6 and went to the park to exercise. Once around the lake and then I hooked up with some locals that setup a homemade gym with bars and benches every morning. It was an interesting workout. All the same it was great being invited in to workout on their equipment as I did the “Western gawk” thing. After working out I helped with the breakdown of the equipment.
A quick walk back to the hostel, breakfast, packing, and a quick walk to the motorcycle shop and my motorcycle adventure would begin.
The plan was to go to Buddhist park where the Vietnamese Buddhist headquarters operates. Bai Dinh Pagoda is like a historic Buddhist Disney world without any rides. Tons of people ride cars, motorcycles and buses to visit, buy from multiple booths of food and clothing vendors, and see the attractions. A state park that is a must see too is nearby, that was part 2 of my plan. That evening, having tested the bike, I will be ready to load it on a train and go to Dong Hoi, Phong Nha, and Xe Bang Fai in Laos.
So when I got to the shop I jumped on my bike and started out About 40 minutes into my trip, the motorcycle died. If you have read previous day’s posts you may start to notice a pattern. This was not good. I called the shop and told them. Again, after sitting a bit I was able to start it up. I texted the shop owner and told him I would try to drive it back to him.
We crossed messages and he sent his mechanic to me. When I got to the shop I had to wait another 30 minutes for the mechanic. When he arrived I jumped on his bike and he on mine. The plan was for him to test the bike with me following. I guess they were not able to replicate the problem. Many of the clients these motorcycle shops get are first time inexperienced kids. Some are older “kids” too. I think they may have thought that I was the later.
So we raced through the streets of Hanoi with me following this local motocross racer, weaving in and out of traffic. I think he thought he could lose me, but I was on his tail the whole way. After a out 30 minutes of this we made to the highway where he coul open up the throttle…nice and wide. Rush hour was over by now so buzzing down the highway over large bridges was a rush. A couple of miles in one direction and then a couple of miles in the other. The bike didn’t die. WTF. As we were coming off the highway ramp he finally lost power and pulled off the road…sort of. In Vietnam you kind of pull over, after all you were there first. He checked out the bike and proudly stated that he had solved the problem. The gas cap was at fault. It wasn’t allowing air into the tank causing a vacuum as gas fed the carburetor. Eventually the vacuum was to great causing no gas to flow. We went back to the shop where he fixed the problem.
So, I was again on my way to Bai Dinh. The bike was great for the first 2 hours. Then something happened to the horn. It briefly went off by itself and then no longer worked. Instead pushing the button killed the engine. Then about 30 minutes later, 5 minutes from the Pagoda, the engine starts to sputter as I hit around 4000 rpms. That’s a guess since the bike does not have a tachometer.
So the time is around 2:30. With bike issues I couldn’t spend too much time at Buddhist HQ. I needed to be in Hanoi no later than 6:00 to sort out the bike, get my bag I left at the hostel, and get on the 7:30 train. So 45 minutes was enough for me anyway. I thought the place would be less touristy and more spiritual. A pretty and historic place but not for me. Tons of booths like a flea market were everywhere selling all the same shirts, knickknacks, food and jars of kimchi. I guess this place is big with Koreans.
So back on the bike. 5 minutes down the road and the bike is struggling even more. As I am watching for mechanic shops I have now figured out that I need to look for “Sửa Xe Máy”. They are quite literally everywhere. As I am driving along I am saying to myself, there’s one…but I can make it, there’s another…but I can make it…you get the picture. So I have been driving for 5 minutes and I get to a traffic light and the bike just quits. I manage to get it started but it’s not going to make it to Hanoi. I take it to a shop a few hundred meters away. I get the Hanoi shop on the phone with this one. The local shop plays with a couple of things and says he can’t help.
The Hanoi shop asks me to take it to a guy 14km down the road who he knows and will sort it out. I baby the bike and get to the shop around 4 pm. Wow I think I am going to miss my train if he can’t figure this out quickly.
Well, the mechanic isn’t there. He is out for 10 minutes. He eventually pulls up and gets to work. He quickly rebuilds the carburetor…no help. He checks the IC, the spark plug…no help. The he starts cutting wires, splicing wires and using a multimeter…this is really not good. By now it is around 5. The mechanics regular customers start to pull in and all need immediate service: an oil change, tire pressure, tune up, new mirrors. He stops working on my bike as this is no longer an easy thing to sort out. It is a project.
As he works his two preschool children take an interest in me. His oldest, a girl, is around 3. Her little brother is around 18 months. We start to play Patty cake with Vietnamese counting and English counting. She already knows her English numbers. We do obstacle courses the little girl and her bother put together with old motorcycle tires and bricks. They both wear me out as we do a 1,2,3 up where I pick them up into the air. The little brother is stoic but mimicking everything his sister does. The little girl is delighted, laughing and giggling every time I toss her in the air. The mechanic seems fine with it and his son even starts to laugh as I toss him in the air.
The mechanic eventually gets back to my bike. At this point I am confident there is no way to make the train. I text the Hanoi shop owner and ask him if he can help navigate getting my ticket cancelled. It cost almost 1 million dong! I am am pretty sure that at this point it is non refundable and non cancelable due to the lateness. But, if anyone can do it it would be a native. He gets back to me in a few minutes to advise me that there is no way to do it. Bummer.
So as the mechanic works, the wife of his friend comes over to talk. Her name is Thuy. Many Vietnamese welcome the opportunity to practice English. She is in her early thirties and has recently found religion as a Pentacostal. So she practices her her English all while showing me the mysteries of the Bible.
It is approximately 6 now and both mechanics advise me that even if the bike is fixed it would be unwise to drive back to Hanoi at night and risk breaking down. I agree.
Thuy and her husband Alan offer their home as a place for me to stay. They also tell me of other options like a homestay down the road, a hotel down the road and a bamboo cot in the back of the garage. Since all my clothes and toiletries are in Hanoi a hotel would be a waste. I opt for the cot.
But I can’t go to bed yet. I am starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and now it’s around 9. So I walk down the street to find many Western styled Vietnamese food restaurants in a tiny resort. It’s an oasis in a desert of rice paddys and industry. I pick the Bamboo Restaurant and order. Since I am starving I get the pho, a side of vegetables, and a bottle of water. It was the best pho I have eatgen. As I slurp it down, the waitress brings over some complementary rice wine. It completes the meal nicely. I have refrained from writing about how inexpensive things are here, but this wonderful meal in a very nice place was a shocking 85,000 dong. Around $3. Tipping is not the norm in Vietnam and typically it wouldn’t be 10%. I leave a 35000 dong tip.
When I get back to the shop, the mechanic is just finishing up. Alan is there so we practice English and Vietnamese a bit. He says my pronunciation is very good.
At 10, Alan, the mechanic and I start to move all of the mechanics work inside and lock up the shop. Alan leaves. The mechanic washes up in the back of the garage, practices his flute playing and then goes home.
I write my blog and close my eyes as I lay back on my bamboo cot. It has been a pretty authentic non touristy day. Just what I was looking for.
laughed at "In Vietnam you kind of pull over, after all you were there first." You are very witty! This blog is more entertaining than the book I am reading! The mechanics children must have loved you!
I think the kids did like me. Boy were they heavy and solid. All that picking up and down was exhausting.