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For details of the places I visited in Vietnam along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, with GPS Coordinates, see my book Vietnam Caves.

For details on motorbiking in Vietnam and Cambodia, from buying and selling a motorbike, to border crossing, see my book Motorbiking Cambodia & Vietnam.

I get up early (7am), and head down for breakfast as it is included. Bread roll and omelette pluss bannanas. I have decided i will go to the train station at 2pm to look for my bike. While eating , I get a call. It is all in Vietnamese, so i have no idea what they are saying. I desperately ask around for someone that speaks Vietnamese, and finding someone, i just hand over the phone. Unfortunately the person on the other end ended the call already. I do not recognize the number, so now I am sitting wondering what is going on.

About 10 min later, i get a text message that i must come to the train station at 10am and call a number to get my bike. Cool. I work a bit on my book, then get a mototaxi to the train station. The text said i must bring a vietnamese speaking person with, so i ask the taxi driver to help me. I call the number, and the cell is off, typical. So I call the number the text was send from, and reach and english speaking woman. She informs me that my bike is not at the train station, as they already picked it up for me, and that her dad will come and meet me at the gate, but he speaks no english. O, so that is the service you get for using the Big Boss, cool.

Now, i have no idea who the person is who is supposed to meet me at the gate, but i recon they will come to me as i am the only white dude looking lost. As soon as i reach the gate, and middle aged vietnamese guy comes over to me, saying “bike bike”. Wow, that was fast, so i go yes yes. He shows me to follow him, then takes me across the street to a bike. I am like, dude, this is not my bike. He goes, “bike bike”. I am like, NO, this is not my bike. So i take out the shipping order that i got for my bike and gives it to him.

The man reads the paper with my bikes details on, then just blankly stares at me, then at the bike. He shakes his head no and hands me back the paper, then goes to sit down on the bike. I am like, uuuh, hello. Then another middle aged vietnamese comes up to me saying, “bike, follow”, and starts to walk down the road.

Then it dawns on me, the first dude is a mototaxi driver, and thought i wanted a bike ride to somewhere. He however have no idea where i want to go from the paper i handed him, ha ha ha. So i follow the second guy, down some narrow allies, wondering just where I am going. Good thing I left my wallet in the hotel.

And then I see her, still wrapped up.

A young guy comes up to me and asks for the papers for the bike, and for me to sign a form, then goes 30K vnd ($1.5). Ahhh, so that is the fee for picking my bike up for me at the train station. As soon as i hand over the money, my bike is cut free, then I am told that there is a house at the end of the alley, where i can get gasoline, as they drain the bike’s tank before they put it on the train.

I push my bike through the narrow alleys until i get to the last house, and immediately a woman holds up a 1L glass bottle with gasoline in. I ask how much, and she shows me an open palm and one finger. Now, in Asia, i have learned it can mean 15, 6, 60, or 150 as they see fit. So i ask 15K, and yes yes is the answer. 5L gasoline costs around 75K, so okay. She pours the gasoline in, and i hand her 15K. Now we have a problem, for she wants more money. She angrily pulls out money from her pocket and flashes it in front of me while going off with a string of Vietnamese. Wow, what happened to docile friendly. I try to get a glimpse of the money she has in her hand, and it is 150K. What? I can get about 10L for that. But there is no turning back, as the gas is in the bike. Reluctantly I hand over a 200K note. (about $9). The woman looks at the note, then turns around and walks away without a word.

I feel like running after her, but she is like 120 years old, and besides, I am sure she knows some kung fu or something, so i leave it. I try to start my bike, but the lines are dry and the bike just des not want to go. Crap, will have to push the bike to a gas station as i ain’t buying another liter of gas from the lady, who is now walking very fast over to me. She stops in front of me, then holds out some cash. O, she had to go get change, and the palm and one finger, meant 60K. Good thing i did not run after her, might have gotten my butt kicked for nothing. Lesson for the day, make sure you get the communication right between people, as small misunderstandings can leave you whipped by a 120 year old granny. (The 10K and 100K notes look so close i constantly got them confused).

I push the bike about 300 m, all uphill, and notice a gas station across the road. However, it is a main road so i pass trying to cross the road. I turn left into the road as i can later cross the road where it is not as busy. Since the road is now level, I for luck, try to start the bike. Yes!, she starts, and off i go.

I go to Simon to help me with my bike, as I want to replace the vacuum hoses on the bike, in the hope that it will fix the power loss problem. Simon is overworked with many bikes, so I go around the corner to another bike shop.

As in typical Asian mechanic fashion, the mechanic wants to replace everything on the bike, being not sure what is wrong with the bike after I told him it sometimes has power and sometimes not. I assure him not to worry, and just replace the vacuum pipes and fuel lines I point out. I again ask where the fuel filter on the bike is, as I cannot see it openly. The guy tells me it has no fuel filter, which I know Yamaha will not do. It is just hidden somewhere behind a panel or inside the tank maybe, I decide. It is hot, and his wife brings a big jug of tea for him as he works on the bike.

Tea time

Replacing hoses.

As the guy replaces the hoses, I ask him how much a new carburetor is. He says 1million. Mmm, just around US$43. So I decide to replace it as I want to keep the bike. His dad goes off to find a carburettor and he continues to work on the bike. Soon two backpackers comes along wanting to sell bikes. The guy spins them all kinds of stories about their bikes, and wants to give them only $50 for bikes worth around $200 to $250. I call the one guy to the side, and inform him that Saigon minks is just around the corner and if they cannot help, the guys should rather just put a for sale sign up on the bikes and sell it to another backpacker.

They take my advice and leave. This infuriates the mechanic, and I am suddenly informed that the carburetor is now costing 2 million. I refuse to accept. The mechanic informs me that his dad has already bought the carburetor and I must pay up. I refuse saying that he quoted 1 million and if he wants to pay more, that is his problem. So the mechanic packs up and leave the shop, with my bike half in pieces. His wife is still there, but ignores me and acts like she does not understand when I ask her where her son has gone. Since he cut the fuel lines when he took it off, and his dad took the vacuum lines with as samples, I am stuck.

I sit in the street and work on my book, for 3 hours until the guy finally comes back. He then starts working on another bike outside. While I was waiting, his dad had retuned with new vacuum and fuel lines, but is also working on another bike. I go over and ask the guy what about my bike, but he ignores me. Now it is interesting to note, that the dad, tried to start the bike he is working on, but it failed to start. So he just climbed on his bike, was gone for a while, then came back with a new carburetor. Put it on, and at the same time a new spark plug and plug wire, and the bike started. Yes, and then he tuned the new carburetor. No, lets open the carb and see whats wrong, no, just replace it.

At this point, local police come around and give them warnings and letters for working on the street. So I decide I am going to use a tactic I rarely use. I have a badge in my wallet that looks like a police badge, but is not. When I am in an area I think is not that save or when I think people want to rip me off, I flip the wallet open just briefly enough for people to see the badge, while I say nothing. They draw their own conclusions. So I ask for a soda from the shop next to the bike shop, flip open my wallet, let the mechanic see the badge, then ask him how long till my bike is fixed. Then I turn to the police officers and greet the local police, without letting them see the fake badge as I cover it with my hand. Having my back now to the mechanic he thinks I am showing the police my badge. The cops being polite to tourists in Vietnam, greet me back, then move on.

I get my soda from the shop next door, and when I turn around, both father and son are working on my bike. 10 minutes later, it is assembled with new vacuum and fuel lines, for half price. As I pay, the guy goes. “You you police.” I just give him a NCIS Gibbs stare, then get on my bike and drive off.

Unfortunately replacing the vacuum lines does not fix the power problem, that I suspect is in the carburetor, but it does make the bike start easily now. However, I have noticed a ticking sound like a lose valve rocker coming from the bike for some time, and it worries me a bit. However, having no one to really fix it now, that I trust, I decide to try and get across the border the tomorrow. I will use a border post only 80 km from Saigon, with a total distance of about 230 km to Hanoi from Saigon. Hopefully I will be able to get the bike fixed in Cambodia at a Yamaha dealer there.

I decide to try and change as much Vietnamese money I can to dollar, but only manage to find one shop open that have some money. They can give me two $20 notes. I take it then go over to Simon from Saigon minks. As he is leaving Vietnam soon, he does not want to part with his US money, so I try and break the $20 notes into smaller money. He does not have enough, but do have a $5 note. I eventually twist his arm to sell the $5 note to me. I had no idea how important that note would later become. Now armed with two $20 and a $5 note, I go back to my hotel to pack.