The moment Brendan Madden, my travel partner, and I raced past a 1.5 metre long monitor lizard baking in the Bangkok sun, all I could think of was how much I wanted to go back and prove to myself my eyes weren’t deceiving me. But I couldn’t. We were passengers riding through Bangkok’s canals in a long tail boat. The captain’s rush meant returning to see the reptile was impossible. As long as we were the passengers, we had to accept we were not in control during our two week tour through Thailand. We decided to buy motorcycles, and ride them to Singapore.

Two days and ¥4,000 later, Madden and I were ready to ride motorcycles for the first time in our lives. The only complication was that the mechanic we bought the motorcycles from couldn’t get me the registration papers to my bike. I would need them if I wanted to leave Thailand. So we decided we would have him mail the documents to the Thai border town Satun as soon as he had them. No big deal.

Leaving Bangkok, a city of more than 6 million people, was a challenge. We became lost, almost got in a wreck, and once the traffic police angrily waved at Madden to get out of the way when he stalled his bike at a major intersection. All in all though, the trip appeared to be going smoothly until Madden’s motorcycle broke down 150km outside Bangkok later that day. It was the clutch. Luckily, there are motorcycle mechanics in every burg of Thailand and fixes are cheap. We shared some food and drinks with the local police while the mechanic repaired the clutch.

Madden’s motorcycle broke down again the next day in Bang Saipan, another 200km south. Again, we found that Thai people are extremely friendly and helpful. So too are the foreign locals. A retired colonel in the U.S. military showed us a small bungalow right on the beach for 50 RMB. Madden and I sprinted into the sea, wallowed in the transparent water and enjoyed a beer 30m away in the Coco Bar. Breaking down wasn’t so bad.

The next day, we crossed the Isthmus of Kra from Thailand’s eastern beaches toward its western ones. We had heard that the western littoral was even cleaner, the sea clearer. The route wound up and down mountains and amongst palm, banana and mango trees. I braked and picked a massive grapefruit. Every few kilometers a waterfall tumbled between the forest cliffs. We pulled over at one and dipped our toes in the water. We laughed with the Thai children and their parents picnicking along the banks. Indeed, we were in control. Sure, we were tired — it turns out driving a motorcycle requires constant focus — but now the rewards were plentiful.

We drove south along the western coast and turned off at a random sign reading “Pra Pat Beach.” A car-width road curved through huts and mangroves and finally opened onto a beach silent but for breaking waves. We noticed an unusual clearing and a sign that read Tsunami Hazard Zone. The empty beach had a history. A Thai woman stood in an empty field behind the shoreline. I approached her, made the shape of a wave with my hand and pointed to where I stood. She swept her hand across the field to indicate where there had been structures before. Then she rested her face onto the same hand, as if asleep, and said only one English word: “Die.”

We drove further south to Khao Lak, the beach most devastated by the great Asian tsunami in 2004. Officials estimate the wave killed up to 10,000 locals and tourists. The town has a small museum and memorial, but most signs advertise condos or apartments for sale. On the surface it seemed the resorts had recovered. We found one exception, an empty beach lot with a dry pool sandwiched between two brand new hotels.

Raylay Bay was a highlight of the adventure. Cliffs make the tiny peninsula inaccessible to anything with wheels. To get there we ditched our bikes for the night and rode a boat to the enclosed bay. We realised that the motorcycles had exhausted us, and watched the tide fall and rise as we pondered our next move.

Soon it was time to push toward the Malaysian border. I contacted our motorcycle salesman in Bangkok and inquired about my bike’s registration papers, needed to enter Malaysia. We were running short on time. He said he sent them to Satun, and that all we had to do was pick them up once they arrived.

We drove south and Madden and I waited at the hotel in Satun. The last sands of the hourglass landed like bricks on the lobby’s tile floor. Over the phone, the post office announced the final verdict: there was no letter for me from Bangkok today.

We considered our options. Trying to pass through the Thai border without the proper documents seemed too risky. It was unlikely the Thai government would allow me out of the country without them; moreover, the border officials probably wouldn’t have been happy to find out I
The route wound amongst palm, banana and mango trees. I braked and picked a massive grapefruit
didn’t have them. Our flight out of Singapore was three days away and waiting any longer for the papers to arrive would make it impossible to drive the final 750 km, especially considering our history of bike troubles. The fact was we had to be back to work in Qingdao the following Monday.

We considered wrapping the bikes in tarps and burying them in the woods along the border - maybe we could come back during the summer to unearth them and finish what we started! However we figured this was probably illegal, as well as environmentally questionable.

Madden and I were struck by inspiration. “Excuse me, do you two own bikes?” we asked the girls working behind the hotel counter.

They shook their heads. We handed them the keys, threw our daypacks over our shoulders, and left. We caught a lift in a pickup truck down to the ferry dock and rode a boat to the Langkawi Islands, Malaysia. Once again, we were the passengers, not the drivers. We could no longer stop on a whim. Yet, riding a motorcycle, being in control all the time, was grueling. We felt disappointed because we failed to reach Singapore on our bikes, but at the same time we felt relieved to be rid of them. We no longer had to be in such control. For the final three days of our vacation we put our feet up, and simply enjoyed the ride.