My Rocinante

May 18, 2011

Let me preemptively say that I am perfectly safe and only have a few commemorative scratches and bruises from the following adventure. If any of you are familiar with Don Quixote and/or Motorcycle diaries, you probably guessed - I now have a motorcycle.

I was warned repeatedly that a motorcycle was probably a bad idea. I also knew it was a bad idea because I’ve seen motorcycle accident victims in the ED. I kind of hate motorcycles in general. Unfortunately, out here in the middle of nowhere there aren’t a lot of transportation options. Knowing almost nothing about motorcycles, I decided that my primary shopping criteria would be that it was relatively new (because I don’t know how to fix a motorcycle) and available (there aren’t a lot of motorcycle dealers out here). Of course I tried to get along without one the first two weeks. Between miscommunications and other obligations I was only able to collect 45 surveys last week. Frustrated, I decided the time had come to make a real effort at finding a motorcycle. I wandered down a new route between the market and my hotel in La Esperanza and happened upon a shop with two motorcycles for sale. Clearly this was fate, right? As soon as I started looking for a motorcycle shop, there one was.

The motorcycles were bigger than the one I had practiced on before I left, but I though that might make them more stable and didn’t think much about it. The people were nice – I had been afraid they would ridicule me or something (although I’ve never had a salesmen ridicule me before). We talked about price and licenses and paying in cash. I told them I would think about it and return. I had the money. I know I’m capable of learning to ride a motorcycle. Here was a motorcycle. Perfect.

I had to return today to get it because the bank isn’t open on Sundays. The police station gave me a permit to drive a motorcycle without a license for free in about 20 minutes (totally unexpected bonus). Then the shop changed out one of the tires for one that is more suited to the dirt roads, and the owner’s brother took me out to a dirt road to practice riding. When I got on the bike, I nearly tipped over. This should have been my first clue, but no one has ever accused me of being too perceptive, and I was focusing on learning to start the thing. After about half an hour I was able to get the thing going without stalling. Yeah, it took half an hour, but I’m stubborn, and the guy dealt with me because I was a customer. He drove it back to the shop for me, we took care of the paper work, and I was off. Sort of.

My limited experience with standard cars taught me that up hill is a difficult starting point. And so it was. As I headed out of town I stalled a few times trying to shift gears on particularly steep hills. As I stood restarting the engine, I fell over… Really the bike fell over and took me with it. I thought about going back, but, like I said, I’m stubborn, and there were kids with teeth that needed attention. I sat on that hill until I got the bike up it. But this was the first time I began to be concerned. When the bike fell over I really had to strain to lift it. I felt like one of those weight lifters maxing out at the bench press. And when it tipped on a downward gradient I don’t know what I would have done without the neighbor guy who helped me pick it up. This concerned me because I don’t like to be vulnerable like that. Not being able to lift the bike is a problem.

(Insert calming scenic picture)

Once I was off again I just kept the bike in a low gear and made my way back to Las Mercedes going 20-25km/hr. I had no more problems until I got to the hill leading to the clinic. The bike stalled a gain. I tipped over again. I managed to get the bike back up, exhausted and sore. A guy driving down the road asked me if I needed help. His name was Carlos and he seemed nice so I asked him if he knew how to drive motorcycles. He said yes so I had him drive the bike up the hill to the clinic while I followed on foot. He also fell over as he was starting the bike. Cue sense of impending doom.

He got the motorcycle back to the clinic. By this point I had selected a less whimsical name for my motorcycle, but I won't state it here. I suspected that this was trouble, but I decided to shower to clear my mind. The water was out. What a perfect cherry on an awesome afternoon. There was enough water pressure to get some water in the sink, so I navy showered and lay down in my hammock. I spent the rest of the night thinking out my options. I was sure I’d be too sore to lift the bike tomorrow. I talked with Regino, and we decided I would stay in Las Mercedes the next day and do surveys in the afternoon. I had been sure the motorcycle would help me get the surveys done faster, but now most of the week was gone, and prospects didn’t look good. I always try to learn from my mistakes. I’ll be thinking about how I could have done this differently for a while. Sorry I don’t have a picture of it, but it felt wrong to take a picture on a bike that may have been an abysmal mistake.