4/11/2017 or 11/4/17: Tanzania
and the Art of Motorcycle Riding
I made a huge
discovery yesterday. The foot brake! It’s amazing! There’s this little medal
pedal under my right foot…. It’s a brake! I’ve sorta known it was there but just
reflexively used the hand brake on the right handlebar to slow or stop, It’s probably
muscle memory from bicycle riding. The problem is that I use my right hand for
the throttle too. And since my Sanlg 125 cc Chinese bike will always stall out when
stopping unless I keep the throttle up, I respond by trying to gas it and brake
it with the same hand at the same time. Not easy to do, especially in traffic,
on a hill, in the heat, with crowd on the street (and Mzungu always catch
street eyes). So, my discovery and my clutsy attempts to stop and still keep
the RPMs up all reflect on one of the many reasons I am without doubt the worst
motorcycle driver here in Biharamulo.
The reasons are
endless. First, I am a new rider. Second, I am old and thats not changing. Third, I AM NOT A BIKER! Mentally, physically or emotionally. Look
at me! Six feet (almost) tall and 150
pounds and a full set of teeth. And those forearms? Tattoo less and sinewy.
They will never pose a threat or inflict fear to anyone in any bar, country or continent on
this planet. The words threatening,
intimidating, imposing will never be used to describe me. My skin, teeth and
face all lack the weather beaten, grizzled portrait of a road warrior. And lets
just face it I am without question the oldest motorcyclist here.
I do have some
excuses for my bad road behavior. First of all this is Tanzania and that does
come with some built in problems. First of all, the Brits were here. That means
driving is like working inside of a mirror. Every thing is backwards. Drive on
the left. A right hand turn in traffic is the most dangerous thing I know. A left hand turn, no problem. And I don’t
know but people passing me on the right is always going to be foreign to me.
Then believe it or not. There is some moments of heavy traffic here. When I first came here most people walked or had a Chinese knock off English bicycles. There were white Toyota Land Cruisers owned by NGO's and some locally owned cars. Now its boom time for motorcycles, thousands of them, all Chinese and there are more cars ( Toyotas), less bicycles and no one walks ( thats an exaggeration).
And then there are the roads. Despite the booming economy and and as more “tarmac “covers the roads in Eastern Tanzania everyday Biharamulo
roads remain untouched and pockmarked like the magnified zit covered face of hormone raging
teen ager. These are not just ruts, they
are craters! You could get lost in some of them and not come out. There are so
bad they have been know to cause hematuria (personal communication). And before
I leave the road issue I have to say there is not one street sign or named
street here. So yes, I may be the worst /oldest
rider here but I never signed up to do the Baja. And while I will get better I
will always be the oldest rider here and plan to always drive like one
…..driving around at no more then 25MPH with my blinker on.
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