Xe May update . . .

After two and a half days on the roads driving my new ride I was doing much better, though I still look like I've taken a shower when I take my helmet off from all the perspiration. One particularly embarrassing moment on Saturday on the way to a art gallery I passed a woman on a bicycle on the way up a hill to one of Ha Noi many diabolical traffic circles. I was feeling pretty good shifting smoothly from first to second, but I all the oncoming traffic was a bit too intimidating for me to merge correctly and I stalled out near the top of the hill. By the time I got restarted and managed to navigate my way through the traffic circle on to the main road I got to pass that woman on the bicycle again several hundred yards down the road already. It was only my second night . . . . . A couple of close calls, but that's par for the course here in Viet Nam. Overall though, my shifting was less clunky, and my choice of gears was getting better too. Accelerating more smoothly with quite a bit less herky-jerkiness. I was managing not only to avoid other moving vehicles and pedestrians but the many bumps in the road as well, for which our future children will be forever grateful. I was even "Lai xe nhu mot dan ong Viet Nam," (Driving like a Vietnamese guy) Huyen remarked after one particularly smooth outing. Stopping in the shade to avoid the sunlight (Keeping us out of the heat of course, but also serving the secondary, but no less important function of keeping her skin nice and white.) As well as, getting a little jump at the lights like everyone else so I wasn't left in the dust of everybody else, including bicycles. Nice.
Monday afternoon, having managed my first solo ride with aplomb (Huyen called me 15 minutes after I dropped her off to make sure I was alive,) I was feeling pretty damn good. That's just about the right time for the Gods of humility to step in to take you down a notch. On the way back from a late lunch we noticed a weird popping sound as we had started the bike but it started so away we went. Unfortunately, all was not well and about halfway to Huyen's office the engine started to cut out. After a few more yards we lurch to a stop. I'm not too concerned, as with many things as Retro chic as my Honda Super Cub (It's almost as old as I am,) one cannot expect flawless operation. Huyen jumps off, I shift it into neutral and try several times to kick start the bike checking thrice to make sure I am indeed in neutral. Huyen jumps back on and does the same with the exact same result. Nothing. Remembering that we don't have a fuel gauge we lift the seat and unscrew the cap to see half a tank of gas sloshing around. Well that exhausted my extensive mechanical knowledge, so I step back and look as authoritative as possible while Huyen looks to see if there are any obvious lose connections. Luckily (and unluckily in Viet Nam) nothing goes unnoticed, so the xe om guy across the street comes over and he tries to kick start the bike. Nothing. He checks the gas. Still half empty, in this case, and then an old woman from the shop we are standing in front of offers her opinion. Huyen, the xe om driver, and the old woman chat for a moment while I sweat and uh, supervise. The xe om driver disappears across the street and just as quickly reappears with a small oil rag in which is wrapped a few tools and a spark plug. He proceeds to quickly replace our plug and tries to restart the bike again. No luck. At this point it is decided the bike cannot be fixed here on the street and we pay the guy 20,000 VND ($1.33) for his efforts and try and decide what to do. Leave the bike here, call a minivan, hire two xe om guys to take the bike back to our apartment. It's getting late and Huyen needs to get to work. We call the same xe om guy over and after a quick discussion it's decided we don't need two xe om guys. I can take the bike back with our helpful xe om guy.
Every cloud has a silver lining, and in the case of my new ride breaking down, a first in itself, I also got to do something I never thought I'd get to do. If you spend enough time in Viet Nam you'll notice any number of vehicles, from bicycles to heavy laden motorbikes being pushed along by another motorbike. The reason for this might be to speed up in the case of a bicycle, help with a heavily loaded cyclo, or, as in my case, an engine failure. I seen this somewhat sketchy operation innumerable times, but I never thought I'd be taking part, but with Huyen not available for this little circus act and with the xe om guy confidently telling me to jump on my scooter, I decided to go for it. Wheeling the bike around to head back home I clip my helmet strap together and feel an abrupt nudge at the rear of the bike. Starting out is a bit dodgy as I forget that I still need to steer the bike while the xe om guy uses first his right leg on the rear passenger peg to propel us along. We mange to cross over to the slow (slower) side of the street and he crosses behind me he and switches to his left hand on the metal rack (aka Huyen's seat) as we get up to speed. Just like my first few times out on the road we are traveling slow enough to get through almost all the lights perfectly, only having to stop once, which was great since it's a pain to get going again. 15 minutes later we roll up in front of our apartment no worse for wear, another first in my many first time experiences in Viet Nam. Mr. Xe Om happily takes the 50K VND I offer and races away at full speed as I wheel the bike down our apartments hallway to it's parking space. Huyen calls to ask if I made it home alright and tell me that we would not get the bike fixed until the next morning (as well as that I'd paid the xe om guy too much ;) "No problem" I said walking back out the front door of our apartment and down the street. Joining the flow of traffic on Ha Noi's bustling streets once again . . . as a pedestrian.