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Sent: 2/15/07 8:01 PM
From: Frazier, Greg
THROTTLE CABLE BROKE-CAMPING IN JUNGLE TIL LIGHT. GET TWO ROOMS. LAST NIGHT FINED, THIS NIGHT STUCK IN THE JUNGLE. NOW I TAKE PILL-UP AT LIGHT, PUSH.
To: Frazier, Greg
Sent: 2/15/07 8:04 PM
OK, keep in touch. Good luck in the jungle. Watch out for the mosquitoes. BBQ
Sent: 2/15/07 8:09 PM
From: Frazier, Greg
SNAKES-I WILL SLEEP ON THE BIKE!
I ate fresh seafood with friends in Samut Sakhorn on the 15th and left for Bangkok the next morning. I took the ring road around Bangkok as I knew that the probability of hitting a police checkpoint on the ring road during rush hour was low. I’ve been nicked midday on the ring road before. I arrived in Aranyaprathet about 2:00 and stopped at customs to find out what time they opened and confirm that they wanted 3 copies of everything. I found the Nava Phanom guest house, 2.5 km before the border. I booked 2 rooms and as Greg said, I turned the air on in his room - because I’m a nice guy.
I showered, turned on the TV and took a nap. Greg rolled in just at dusk and did smell kinda funny. He mentioned the tiger and I couldn’t help but wonder to myself if it wasn’t a 660ml tiger rather than a 100kg tiger.
We ate dinner and then proceeded to finish the last of the refrigerated beverages and were reduced to drinking with ice cubes. We flew the Tea DrinkKing flag high. As we headed to our rooms, I noticed a strange glow coming from the cloaking device on Greg’s bike. I looked closer and could smell something burning. I put my hand near the device and exclaimed “this is freaking cold”. Greg said it had something to do with the superconductor the drove HPU (hand powered unit) in his cloaking device and that I should never touch it again. Little did he know that the very next day, during the first of many fuel stops, I caught the cloaking device as it fell off his bike. "Greg”, I said, “put this away and start RIDING your motorcycle.
Over breakfast the next morning, Greg gave some tips on writing. We talked about how you feel when you throw your leg over the saddle of an iron horse. We finished eating and jumped on our trusty steeds, brought them to life then headed for the border. I made sure to wear my lucky Buddhas on the outside of my shirt, as I usually wear them inside to give me more protection. Every civil servant that we came in contact with commented positively about them.
I tried to help Greg with the trouble he was having with his motorbike. He had breakdowns daily. I think he rode 200 km more than I did in Cambodia because of his early morning parts hunts / repair sessions. I told him it wasn’t the bike, but that it was he hadn’t become one with the machine yet. I tried as hard as I could to educate him and tell him that he should be RIDING his motorbike, not DRIVING it and that as soon as he became a rider the bike troubles would go away. He countered that if he was a rider then who is the person sitting behind him when he’s 2-up? I replied, “a passenger”. Despite my best efforts, bike gremlins would plague him for the remainder of the trip.
Greg driving his motorcycle
The cult bike
An all too common sight
The cult bike ate the master link and the rear tire ate the license plate.
I think I smoked more cigarettes this ride than any other in the past. I’m comfortable riding at 130 on the GS, the KMX200 ran best at 80 and had an 80 km tank. We stopped every hour for fuel. Out of concern for my friend, when I did ride ahead of him, I’d stop every 15 minutes (20 km) and wait for him to catch up. I don’t want to be accused of leaving the dead and crippled behind again.
Every darned hour!
Coming up? A lovely 10 km mud slalom on the GS
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