Motorbike Death Throes

Only 2 ferries and about 150km of motorbiking stood between us and Hanoi. To this point, our bikes had been finicky, but hadn't really "broken down" per se. But as we boarded the first ferry, some kind non-English-speaking locals pointed out that my front tire had gone flat. They took us to the first "repair" shop on the other side: specifically, a curmudgeonly old man whose shop appeared to fix bicycles. Convinced he could fix the tire, he proceeded to pull the thing off the wheel only to realize it was a tubeless tire, and then throw up his hands in despair. We limped to 3 more shops before we found a guy who installed a tube into the tubeless tire as a workaround solution.

With the exception of a very delicious street food lunch in Hai Phong (Bun Cha and fried crab-filled spring rolls!), what ensued was 120ish kilometers of terror on my part. We were in the thick of it on a big main artery into Hanoi; massive trucks were barreling down the highway within inches of us, and meanwhile, my brakes were starting to fail and my bike's engine would sometimes just cut out at random times. By the time we got to Hanoi, I was a wreck, and I can't say that I handled it with as much grace as I should have. I was just grateful to be off that death machine. But we made it safe, and in one piece, and ended up having dinner at a stellar restaurant called Duong's Restaurant and Cooking School. Delicious (upscale) Vietnamese food, super friendly staff, and a good wine list to boot, so I can't complain!