Flat Tire

It’s a strange feeling being woken up by a stranger on an overnight bus. I don’t know who’s waking me, or why and then when I realize I’m on a bus, the next obvious question is where am I? Coming home from a long weekend in Bangkok, this time the answer was that I was home, back in Buakhao.

Collecting our things, Taraneh and I stumbled off the bus, our eyes half open our brains half asleep. Outside it was freezing, way colder than Thailand is ever supposed to be. A small group of men were huddled together, warming their hands over a fire in a metal bucket. Some of the men got up and approached us asking, “Where you go?” They were the tuk-tuk drivers. The cold doing very little to wake me up, I could barely think of where we needed to go. I looked at my watch. 4:30 am. I just wanted to be home.

The tuk-tuk ride was so cold it hurt. We weren’t warm again until a half an hour later, overdressed under every blanket I had. A power nap later it was time to drive Taraneh out to Khao Wong. The sun had come out but still hadn’t warmed the earth any. Like the tuk-tuk drivers, many families made small fires along the roadside and I imagined they were warming me up as well.

25 kilometers down the road, I dropped Taraneh at her house and turned back around to make the journey home. My knuckles frozen white, I pulled back on the accelerator and tried to get home as quickly as possible. 2 kilometers out of Khao Wong, 23 from Buakhao, I heard something pop and my bike started to shake uncontrollably. I slowed down, then tried to speed back up but I couldn’t keep it under control. I stopped and looked back. My tire was dead flat.

A small consolation for my bad news was that I no longer had to endure the wind. I felt warmer already. I sat on the bike and asked myself aloud, “Now what?” It was 6:30 am. I could call my Thai family but they wouldn’t be awake yet. I could call Taraneh but she didn’t have any form of transportation. I could call Lara but on her bike it would still be a half an hour before she made it out. Not knowing what to do, I just sat there. There was no one else on the road that early, nothing moving as far as I could see. I actually felt quite peaceful for a moment.

Knowing I would have to get home soon or show up late to school I decided to call Lara. It was a desperate call, and I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected her to do, but at least she could explain to the school why I hadn’t showed up. As I started to explain my situation to her, in the distance I saw a truck approaching. I’m no stranger to hitch-hiking in Thailand but I know you have to pick and choose your vehicles. In Khao Lak we used to let beat up pick-ups go by and wait for newer trucks with A/C. I couldn’t afford this luxury this time, and without seeing what kind of car was headed my way, I tried to wave it down. It flew past me and just as I thought it was gone, I looked back and saw brake lights. I told Lara I had to go and ran up to the truck.

The back of the pick-up was fully loaded with tiny whicker baskets that look like disks. It smelled like rotten fish. I wondered how they would have any room for me in the cab or whether I’d somehow be sitting atop the stench of stale fish. Behind the wheel was a middle aged Thai man and next to him was his wife. I explained my situation and my need to get back to Buakhao to teach. Thank Buddha I can speak Thai. The wife happily moved to the back seat and let me ride in front. Fluent in the basics of Thai conversation I chatted the couple up the whole way home. They told me about the fish in the back of their truck and explained they were driving market to market selling it. They mentioned the name of the fish, confirming my guess of what type of fish they were selling. These small fish are a traditional Isaan dish, one of the few I can’t stomach. They asked me if I had eaten it and whether I liked it or not. I smiled and lied and said that I liked the fish very much, that it was surprisingly delicious.

When we arrived at my home and thanked them profusely then offered them gas money. They refused and then the man got out of the truck and headed towards the back. He reached into the stacks of whicker disks and pulled out a pair of fish for me. A gift. My favorite fish. This is why I love Thai people, because they are incredibly generous. I took the fish up to the house and saw Pee Meaw was up. I offered her the fish. She gave me a confused look and asked me where I bought fish this early in the morning, then added on, “I thought you didn’t like those fish.” I explained and all she had to say was, “Ajarn D, why do you have so much good luck?”