07
Nov 2013
POSTED BY Brad
POSTED IN

Asia, Blog

DISCUSSION 17 Comments

The Rally Crashers

One thing we’ve come to appreciate about our Southeast Asian friends is their ability to coerce us into doing unusual activities that we would never otherwise do. This subtle trickery is achieved through nonchalance and a sprinkling of urgency, such as the time that TengTsen Khoo made us appear on The Apprentice, unclean, unshaven, and in my case, in desperate need of a haircut.

We should have recognized the signs when our Thai friend Pat called us one Saturday morning as we lounged around our Bangkok apartment.

“Hi Brad, are you guys busy today?” (Testing the waters.)

“I’m wearing my underwear, and planned to do so until dinner time. Why, what’s up?” (Naïveté.)

“There’s a classic car show today. Do you guys want to go with me?” (Trickery, coercion.)

“Sure, we’ll go. Sounds like fun! ” (Fell for it.)

“All right, meet me at the National Museum. You might see a couple of people in Volkswagens.” (Lies, all lies.)

After winding our way through Bangkok traffic, we find our way to the National museum. The casual manner in which Pat mentioned this opportunity has given us a false sense of calm. We turn into the National Museum and slam on the brakes. Something smells fishy.

There aren’t many Volkswagens around, though there are dozens of shiny classic cars; Bentleys, Rolls Royces, MGs, Porsches. A small boy walks by wearing some kind of 1920’s pantaloon shorts with suspenders and a driving cap. This, incidentally, is a perfect match to the 1920’s roadster that he’s arrived in.

Seeing our confusion, a young man—one of Pat’s accomplices—approaches.

“Hi Brad and Sheena! You can park over there. My name is Kaeg. No Sheena, that’s not how you say it. No, it’s not Keg either. Look, just call me Samurai, I think it’s easier for Americans to pronounce. Follow me, I’ll show you where to register and get your number plate.”

Samurai points to a parking space in between a classic Austin Healey and a Rolls Royce, and he’s dead serious. The cars are so shiny that as I pass by I can see my reflection in the paint, and I look like a total sucker. A sucker driving a mud-coated van with a rusty steel box hanging on the bumper.

Since arriving in back in Thailand, we haven’t found the time to wash Nacho. This means that our white paint is invisible under various layers of brown Cambodian mud, applied as if to a Jackson Pollock canvas over weeks of driving sloppy roads of brown Cambodian mud.

Sheena wants to hide. She pleads for me to take her home where she can crawl under the covers of our fluffy white bed, but It’s too late. Everybody stands around a flagpole and we listen to the King’s Anthem, and then official photographs are taken of the drivers of the classic cars, ourselves included. People take pictures of the cars, and Nacho succeeds in ruining all of the photos. We’re ushered back to our cars and we’re on the street, a big classic car train winding through Bangkok traffic—a classic car train with a fat, brown, 1984 caboose with a rusty box bolted on the back.

We drive out of the city and find our way to a temple in the countryside. Pat innocently joins the rally driving his VW Syncro Doka as if nothing were amiss. As if he weren’t taking the mickey out of poor, muddy, slightly ugly Nacho.

“Hi Brad and Sheena, you made it!”

“Yeah, here we are. Now, when you said that we were going to a car show, you might have forgotten to mention that we were in the car show.”

“What? Hey, do you know how to grease a CV joint? ” An underhanded subject change, no doubt. He knows that I have a soft spot for working on CV joints in parking lots. While I get under way, Sheena is snatched away by Samurai.

“Hello Sheena! Come with me, I’ll give you a tour.”

And with this, Sheena is whisked away for a tour of the temple, where she will spend the next ten minutes looking at sacred stuff, eating coconut ice cream, and buying little Buddha idols. Pat hands me paper towels to wipe the foul-smelling grease from my arms, and he correctly guesses that I prefer this to looking at temples.

Nacho ruins several more photographs and then it’s time to move on to the next stop. I still feel uneasy about sullying the clean image of this show.

“Pat, so, this is a classic car rally, right?”

“Yes! Are you having a good time?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful, but do you think that we really belong here? I mean, Nacho is from 1984.”

“Oh look, everyone’s leaving!”

Before we know it we’ve parked at another location and are climbing into a double decker London bus, which is to take us to lunch. Our new friend Dcim (Sim) is snapping photos and I’m minding my own business when all of a sudden an electrical wire shoots out of nowhere and its trajectory promises to decapitate Dcim from behind. My head-ducking reflex is faster than my verbal warning reflex, and I only manage to warn Dcim about the wire after he’s been clothes-lined by it. Oopsies!

Moments later, while observing the young boy in pantaloon shorts, my world temporarily goes black when a stationary tree branch collides with my temple. Double decker busing in Thailand is not for faint-hearted or the elderly. We wise up and put more emphasis on safety. We pass under several more low power lines, but this time we have an appointed powerline carrier to walk the length of the bus carrying the dangerous wires in his bare hands. Safety first!

At lunch, a troop of highly decorated dancing Thai children entertains us over tea and an elaborate Thai buffet. As is becoming a theme, we round out our meal with even more coconut ice cream. Before we know it we’re back on the bus, back in our cars, and jetting off to Jesada: an auto museum containing the collection of one eccentric collector.

The final stop of the day is at a university back in the city. We all park in a long line and go inside. Another buffet has been erected, which is divided into separate sections to represent the food from each region of Thailand. We gorge ourselves on more food, demarcating each course with coconut ice cream served inside of actual coconuts. Students from the university’s fine arts department take the stage and perform a traditional Thai dance.

And then it’s time for the awards ceremony.

The awards ceremony?

The awards ceremony. I listen to a barrage, many minutes long, of incomprehensible Thai language, listening for my name. Each person goes to the stage, and then I hear it.

“Ching who bing chang dee doh—Brad Van Orden—dingo chan—semi-ugly Volkswagen.”

I accept my award for ruining all of the classic car club’s photos, I forget to bow to my gracious host, and walk off the stage, where I proceed to the coconut ice cream stand to lose myself in more substance abuse.

A moment later, as I whip my tongue across my chin trying to mop up a few stray drops of liquidy coconut, Pat approaches.

“Hi Brad! I see you really like the coconut ice cream.” He pauses for a moment, and then continues. “You’re going on TV in four minutes.” And with that, he turns and begins walking away.

“Pat! Huh!?” By now I’ve forgotten about the ice cream on my chin and I fire off a barrage of questions as I trail behind Pat.

“On TV? But why? Do you know what kind of show? Is it, like, local or national?” I don’t even know where to start. Three minutes.

“Do you see that guy over there who looks like Elvis Presley? Every person in Thailand knows who he is. You’re going on his show. It’s the most famous car show in Thailand.” I shoot a worried look over to Sheena, my unfailing moral supporter—the woman who stands by my side through thick and thin.

“Leave me out of this!” she wails, and then turns her back on me.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m standing next to Elvis Presley, who goes by the name Sheeva, answering questions about our world trip. I can still smell the coconut ice cream on my own breath and out of the corner of my eye I see Sheena with a smug look on her face, and she’s eating—can it be? A fresh coconut full of ice cream! The scheming weasel!

“Problems? Oh yes, we’ve had many problems on our trip…”—I hope the coconut ice cream lady is still operational when this interview is over—“in Colombia our transmission failed…”—if she got the last coconut, I swear to God—“our brakes failed, our wheel bearings failed…”—Is that? No! The coconut lady! Where are you going?!

Here’s the interview; our section starts at 9:20.

When the interview wraps up, we stand around talking to Sheeva as dusk settles in. He’s passionate about classic cars with larger-than-life style, and he flips through photos on his iPhone, showing us the cars he’s designed and built himself. The Chevy he’s driving today is of his own design. As he talks, he thinks of something and his eyes light up. He opens the back door to his truck and rummages around for a minute, finally emerging with a bottle of his namesake rum, Sheeva WOP—WOP being an acronym for World of Peace, not a derogatory war-time slur for an Italian person. We happily add the Sheeva WOP to Nacho’s onboard mini bar.

As night settles on the parking lot, the rest of the car club has gone home. Now it’s only Sheeva and his camera guys; Pat, his wife and son; Dcim; the curator of the Jesada car museum; Sheena and me. As we begin parting ways, Sheeva tells us to wait. He runs to his Chevy, opens the door, and grabs the dreamcatcher that hangs from his rearview mirror; we later learn that this dreamcatcher is a part of his brand persona, appearing in several of his TV intro clips for his show. He presents the dreamcatcher to us and wishes us luck on our trip.

Just before we all head our part ways, the curator of the Jesada museum has exciting news to share with us.

“We are so happy to have you in Bangkok,” he begins “and as you know, next week is the Queen’s birthday.” True, true, we did know this. Go on. “So the Jesada Museum would like to invite you and Sheena to drive a historic miniature car from the museum in the Queen’s birthday parade.” My first instinct is to shoot a glance at Pat to see if he has anything to do with this. No, I think to myself, Pat’s brand of trickery is far more subtle.


17 Comments

  1. Mom

    OMG! I haven’t laughed this hard since your blog over a year ago about Sheena’s bout with diarrhea (sorry, Sheena, but it IS public knowledge!) and your middle-of-the-night trek to find anything resembling Pepto Bismol! I’m still wiping laugh-tears from my eyes…

    Isn’t it grand to have a friend like Pat? Seriously: through his wiles and trickery, he has taken you into adventures that could ONLY happen with a friend like that. These memories will last forever.

    I had the pleasure of meeting Pat and his family when I visited you guys in Bangkok in May. He is a beautiful and genuine person–always with a smile on his face. He will be your friend for a lifetime, no doubt.

    Loved the interview!

    Mom

    Comment by Mom on November 7, 2013 at 11:35 pm

  2. Pat

    555+ Is this the funniest part of your tour trip ? I love it :-)

    P.S. I could send you coconut ice cream! give me your address then I will put it into envelop and mail out asap.

    P.S. 2 you didnt mention about pedaling boat :-) I bet you like it!

    https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/554018_10151903730025432_1717483227_n.jpg

    https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/934640_10151903729365432_384664026_n.jpg

    https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/1082526_10151903730475432_1533979715_o.jpg

    https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/1075544_10151884435180432_606304665_o.jpg

    P.S. 3 joob joob!

    Comment by Pat on November 7, 2013 at 11:59 pm

  3. Sue

    You looked marvelous on camera, not to worry! Just smile and nod, no worries. An amazing story this time around. Sheeva is a pretty “cool” guy and now you “rock” his dream catcher! Way cool.
    Stay safe! Always look forward to your updates!

    Comment by Sue on November 8, 2013 at 12:16 am

  4. This is just… pure awesomeness!!

    I lived for 10 years in Asia – and we’re just beginning the Pan Am Overland. This post kind of makes me wish we were just starting what you guys are on – in Asia – rather than Central/South America!

    (did I really just say that??!!)

    Comment by meriah on November 9, 2013 at 7:20 am

  5. misty

    You be in Thailand long enough to have apartment, but not to wash Nacho?

    Get out of you underwear, tell Sheena enema time, both wash home!

    Not be tricked with Isetta, not classic! Piece of junk sent to Asia for small people, big laugh!

    Comment by misty on November 9, 2013 at 12:46 pm

  6. Great post. You seemed to have really touched Sheeva for him to have given you the dream-catcher. The VW T-3 ‘Vanagon’ now means something to him, that’s for cure.

    Comment by syncro.org on November 10, 2013 at 11:20 am

  7. Lenella

    I know it has been quite a while since I have commented, but I have been a silent lurker. :-) You are blessed beyond measure to be able to travel around the world and make the friends that you have made. And to top it all off, you are becoming world wide celebrities! Everyone that hears you are in their area, want to meet you.

    Thanks for the wonderful stories. :-)

    Comment by Lenella on November 11, 2013 at 8:48 am

  8. Adam

    Question from the peanut gallery:

    Does Sheena ever drive Nacho? Or does she serve as ever valiant navigator and e-book reader?

    Comment by Adam on November 12, 2013 at 3:51 pm

  9. Booth Teeters

    Love this most recent post….. FYI, the text is somewhat difficult to read. not a complaint, but some of the letters, especially the ‘ T’ , are kind of hard to distinguish.

    Thanks so much for sharing your travels!

    Comment by Booth Teeters on November 14, 2013 at 11:21 am

  10. Ada

    HAH!

    Comment by Ada on November 16, 2013 at 2:33 am

  11. and, while you were out on your trek, congratulations for making the home page of expedition portal
    http://www.expeditionportal.com/in-progress-overland-journey/2525-drive-nacho-drive-one-dolla-chia.html
    WOOOT!

    Comment by jeffrey carter~zest on November 17, 2013 at 3:57 am

  12. Ernesto

    wow

    Comment by Ernesto on November 17, 2013 at 7:34 am

  13. Gaoying vigoa

    I love all your posts! Thanks To you both.
    What discipline of engineering are you in, Brad, mechanical?
    I am just in my first year of civil, even though I am not sure if that is right for me.
    I have an 83 water cooled westfalia, inspiring by you guys, dreaming one day, I can drive at least to Argentina!
    How much do you think it will cost you ship the van to Thailand from La? Think if my old engine quits I would choose Thailand to swap a Subaru. thanks for sharing all the experiences!
    By the way, I am from China. Sorry to hear we missed you and Nacho in China. I feel ashamed that the government wants so much money from you guys. Oh well, it is quit polluted in China right now except for the high plateau, like Yunnan and Tibetan areas. Wish one day you we will see you there.

    Comment by Gaoying vigoa on December 5, 2013 at 12:39 pm

  14. Hi Gaoying,
    Nice to hear from you; I’m a mechanical engineer. Getting the work done in Thailand would be a nice adventure, and I think the shipping cost should be around $2.5k each way including both shipping and receiving. You’d have some time tied up in hte shipping processes, and overall it should take around a month including shipping and engine swap. If you have teh time and money, it’d be fun, though it’d be easier to get it done at home (if you’re looking for ease over adventure). Good luck!

    Comment by Brad on December 5, 2013 at 2:50 pm

  15. Gaoying vigoa

    Thanks for the prompt response. I wish you two have a good holiday on the road! Will be following your posts… I am buying your book as my own Christmas present!

    Comment by Gaoying vigoa on December 7, 2013 at 9:24 am

  16. where can i buy a pair of those sweet Thomas the Tank shoes!?/

    Comment by James on December 23, 2013 at 1:05 am

  17. bea

    LOL! Brad, as someone that understands Thai…your interview was horribly translated. ufff! b

    Comment by bea on June 6, 2014 at 10:25 pm

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