Fearless

When was the last time you did something new; something you thought you'd never, ever try? In fact something you had never even thought about?

Well for me it was riding on a moto-cross bike for 110Km on a red brick dusty gravel road out to Sihanoukville beach in Cambodia. Yes, Cambodia also has beaches! Chris and I used Kampot (from where some of the world's best black pepper comes from) as a base to move around the south of Cambodia and as it turns out, rented moto-cross bikes for touring. Now, let me describe this to you because it is not as straight forward as it may seem. I, for one, recently crashed an automatic scooter on a paved road in Chiang Mai....fairly easy riding conditions. Moto-cross bikes are those rough and ready things with the motor exposed, that measure a height nearly up to my shoulder and have all manner of very "manly" artefacts attached to them...like those colourful suspension tubes and such. They're usually noisy and full of dust or dried caking mud and have all kinds of switches, buttons and gears that one...well this one, believed she'd need a pilot's license to drive one.

So when we got to the bike shop and I realised what renting 250cc bikes really entailed, I sort of looked around and expecting the film Director to come out and say "CUT!". What on earth was I thinking when I agreed so fervently and enthusiastically to Chris on this?! Well, as it turned out, Chris got a spanking new bike (cause he's about 2M tall) that literally reached my boobs in height. And to my surprise, they had another "smaller" one pour moi! Well, well, it was standing in the middle of the shop looking like...wait! no! it WAS being seriously repaired. But alas no, they rented it out to me without hesitation. There was only one back blinker...and it was hanging off. When I pointed it out in my routine check (what check? I didn't even know what the hell I was checking for here....as if!) they nodded, smiled and said no problem. Then I figured they'd prevent me from renting the minute they realised I didn't even know how to start the damned thing. But alas, no again, they encouragingly gave me the 2 minute Cambodian crash course, confident in my ability to master the art in no time. May I kindly remind you that I have only ever ridden a gear shift bike once before; on Samui island 6 weeks ago, and the gears were straightforward and on the foot...it was a scooter after all. Chris intervened and made me feel better by telling me how easy it was, similar to the gear scooters but with a couple of differences and a bit like riding a gear shift car. I'm European. I drive gear shift back home. How hard could it be huh? So there's a clutch (which for all those of you non-riders like me, is what we would normally relate to as the left hand brake on the handlebar). Anyway, this thing starts in neutral, which is some random position between 1st and second gear on the foot... yeah, NOT like a gear shift car! There's supposed to be a light that shines on the display panel...but my bike's panel was pretty much inexistent so after about 3 dozen stalls, I managed to get the hang of getting started, putting it into 1st and riding off like Lucky Luke.

Well, after some hesitation, I got a surge of adrenaline (and quite some testosterone that appeared out of nowhere) and I was off, with my super cool helmet, my moto-cross bike and ready to face anything, cause I am a cool chick, and I try new stuff and life is all about this, isn't it?! Well, first off, I somehow spaced out about what 100Km really means. After riding for so many Km's on rickety roads and minibuses, it seemed like something quite achievable. Only when almost an hour had gone by on that red brick dusty gravel road, and we stopped to catch our breath and I realised we'd only done about 30Km, did I realise 100Km is about 30% further than our old country house, Aldeallana, from where I lived in Madrid.....and it takes almost and hour doing a good speed on a paved highway! Well lesson learnt, late for lamentations, and with a shakiness on my hands and arms that I thought would launch me into a seizure (if not that, the heat of the day cause by now it was 2 PM and about 40 degrees), we continued on down. There I am riding into the Cambodian skyline, fearless, in 4th gear, thinking I am the coolest thing ever, when all of a sudden the bike's humm dwindles down to a wheez and stops. I pull over and think, "well, let's see how long it takes Chris to look back and see I'm not with him". I manage, somehow, to get it started again and continue on, but about 15 Km further on, it does it again. At this stage I start getting peeved off and realised the bike shop has taken advantage of my novice condition. I've been given a bike that needs repair and who knows if I'll ever make it to the beach. It's now 3PM, I am sweltering, exhausted, the coolness of the event is turning into hot headedness and my bowels are beginning to complain...Did I mention Chris and I got food poisoning and had spent the best part of the last 48 hours preaching to the porcelain god or else shitting our brains out on it? Well, thankfully, sharing all these intimacies together, we also seemed to appreciate the joint pit stops and attempts at signing our way to the nearest hole in the floor to pay our respects. The best one was the motor garage where, thinking back, I should've gotten a full bike check up.

Anyway, after stopping in it's tracks one last time, we finally approached Sihanoukville coast. Oh bless, the cool breeze seemed to penetrate my helmet somehow and I began dreaming of stripping my clothes off like Sophia Loren and plunging into the water, triumphant music playing, cocktail awaiting on my return......... when clack clack clack clack clack....the bike stops and I sense something is REALLY WRONG with it now...like, the f***ing chain has come off!!!!!!! It is now 4 PM, I am STILL sweltering but the sun will not be out much longer and my dream image of the water is dissipating into a nightmare afternoon of trying to sort out this bike with the garage, or more importantly, figuring out how I'll get back home (and may I remind you that these events are all accompanied, in silence, but very presently, by intense bouts of diaohrrea!)

So, sensing my desperation and near faintedness, or maybe seeing me collapse on a shaded bench on the roadside hardly able to speak (or bark, as it was at this stage)Chris takes over. He calls the garage, arranges to meet them at the bike's spot of demise in 2 hours, and sorts everything out. It's 5 PM by the time we get to the beach, and my dream is realised with a beautiful sunset, a banana coconut iced shake and, bless my luck, a Cambodian masseuse offering to give me a good old rub-down while I recover from this gamble.

Chris and I ended up returning at 10PM on his bike....I thought I would get killed, if not by the random cows venturing out into the pitch-black roads, then by the road trucks without tail lights lining the return path to Kampot. Or was it that I was sitting on the back of a moto-cross bike (again for those of you non riders like me, moto cross bikes are for 1 person only - the back is a collection of metal bars that look like a grill and that I have yet to figure out what they-re for, cause they certainly arent's a roasting board for my ass!). And to end this story, I will confess that as we rode back in the night, and I observed how Chris used his clutch (oh yeah...THAT thing he spoke about at first), I realise I haven't been clutching at all when changing gears! Oh Dear!