Sunday, June 2, 2013

A moto of my own

Goodness knows I've been talking about it long enough (if not on this blog then to those who I talk to on a regular basis and they've been hearing about this for a few months now.) I've been spending close to 12 dollars a week on motortaxis ("So, 4:30 on Friday you go to CTN?") and relying on the goodness of my dancers' hearts (sometimes an iffy proposition) to get around, but that only takes me from point A to point B. Adding point C is not an option without some hassle.

I've been wanting one for a long time, and slowly building up the funds and the courage to do it, snitching a friend's moto to practice and generally psyching myself up. I don't know if I was ready or not, but either way, when I showed up to work on Monday and discovered no one there for yet another holiday that I forgot about (in my defense, this was an American holiday and how the heck should I remember those if I don't live there???), I knew it was time.

I got the resident handy man/driver to come with me and we found our way to the used moto bazaar near Olympic Stadium and got accosted by everyone wanting to sell us something. He explained, and we were led into the midst of everything, passing rows and rows of motos to the back, where The Moto was presented.

An old Honda Dream, 450 starting price, something about Japan and a warranty involved (something of which I am still doubtful.) My compatriot hopped off his bike and began the inspection, looking at the engine and the battery and goodness knows what else, while I was escorted in grand fashion to a plastic chair to sit and watch the whole process.

It was a good bike, I was informed, the push start still worked and it wasn't dripping oil, there was still a warranty involved and all in all, they had already discounted from 500.

The haggling began. We didn't work too hard or throw any fits, which could have brought it down much further, but in the end they agreed to 420 and I signed the paperwork. Registration doesn't really exist here, as with driver's licenses (they do exist but nobody has them, at least not for motos.) They put some gas in, and then it was mine to drive away (I'd bought a helmet the day before.)

Just like that.

I discovered that night that the main light was out and warranty or no warranty they had me pay for it to get fixed, and the brakes could use some tightening, and every so often when I try to start it makes weird clunking noises and refuses to for a few seconds, but other than that, I have taken it all over Phnom Penh and beyond, up to rehearsal and to CTN and in circles to pick up and drop off things and add meetings and ---

It is sheer freedom.

I drive pretty slowly and intend to keep it that way, just for my own sake. I worry about the occasional strange clunking noises, because I already can't figure out what I did without it. I don't have to keep anyone else's schedule. If I decide I need to stop and get something, I can, and I do. If the boss (one of them, at any rate) needs me to come in and help out in a slight emergency, I don't worry about the extra biking. If I need to pick something up halfway across town and return it to work before going to rehearsal, I can. If someone wants to meet in Tuol Kork before rehearsal, I can make that happen.

I love it, and it's just in time too, as the next month promises to be just as insane as the past couple weeks, which have left me with no time to turn around, a period of intense transition and energy and creation (and the destruction that comes with it) -- but at least, when it comes to the actual traveling from one location to another, I got that covered now.

Yahoo.

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