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Posted
9 hours ago, SoCal1990 said:

Mates, let me tell you, I don’t know what it is, but the universe seems to have it out for me lately. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s bad luck. Or maybe it’s just that Thailand simply cannot handle a man of my stature, good looks, and wealth roaring through the streets on a 900-pound chromed Milwaukee masterpiece.

 

So, there I was, yesterday afternoon, taking my beloved Harley down Soi 6, heading to meet my old mate Pete the Porker for a few tins. I’m feeling good, looking sharp, got my aviators on, leather vest in this 36-degree heat because fashion is pain, and the engine purring like a high-class BJ Queen.

 

I glide down the soi, weaving through the usual mix of punters, bar sluts, and wide-eyed first-timers still trying to process the sheer carnage of what they’ve just walked into. A few lovely ladies give me the nod (standard for a baller like me), and I’m thinking, Yeah, Bob, you know you’ve still got it.

 

And then, disaster.

 

Out of nowhere, some absolute tosser in a battered old Toyota Altis, looking like it's an old repainted Bangkok taxi, decides to stomp on the brakes right in front of me. No indication, no warning, nothing. I yank the brakes, but it’s too late. The front wheel locks up, the handlebars wobble, and suddenly, BOOM—I’m down. Bob, the king of Soi 6, now lying in the middle of the one lane Soi like a bruised mango, my Harley keeled over like a beached whale.

 

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of my own rage boiling over. And then, the laughter. Of course, the peanut gallery absolutely loved that one. Slappers cackling, motocy taxi drivers pointing, even some pasty bloke in cargo shorts gave me a thumbs up. Real funny, yeah? Watching a man’s ego get obliterated in broad daylight?

 

I pick myself up, dust off my jeans, wipe off my boots, and turn to the idiot responsible for this catastrophe. He’s stepped out of his car now, a middle-aged local bloke in knockoff Ray-Bans and a shirt that says “Red Bull Champions 2014.” The type who probably spends his days cutting people off in traffic and his nights trying to convince karaoke girls that he’s a pilot.

 

I hit him with my best intimidating mug-shot stare.

 

“Mate, what the actual f*** was that?”

 

The bloke shrugs. Shrugs! Like I just asked him what his favorite noodle stall is. Then he hits me with, “Farang not careful.”

 

Farang not careful?! I nearly blew a gasket on the spot. I was gliding through that soi like a majestic panther before this absolute numpty of the highest order decided to pull a handbrake turn for no reason.

 

I point to my bike. “You see that, yeah? That’s 2,800,000 baht of pure American steel you just laid out like a cheap deck chair.”

 

Does he care? No. In fact, now he’s getting annoyed at me, like I’m the inconvenience in his day! A small crowd is gathering. More bar girls watching now, some old expat lads leaning against a bar railing, enjoying the show.

 

Then, out of nowhere, this fella tries to walk back to his car like it’s case closed.

 

Oh, no. Not today. Bob's not having it. 

 

I step in front of his door. “Oi, mate, not so fast. Who’s paying for the damage to my Harley?”

 

He sighs, takes off his sunglasses, and says the words:

 

“Not my problem farang.”

 

And that’s when I knew it was game over. This was one of those classic Thailand moments where, no matter what, the farang is always in the wrong. I could have had a dashcam, sworn witness statements, and a handwritten apology from the grandfather of Pattaya himself, and I’d still be the one walking away with a lighter wallet and a fresh dose of humiliation. 

 

And sure enough, before I can argue further, a couple of motocy taxi runts start shaking their fingers at me. One even says, “You go too fast farang.”

 

Mate, I was going ten kilometers an hour. I’ve seen coconuts roll faster.

 

But what can you do? Welcome to Pattaya. I’m left standing there, sweaty, pissed off, my Harley scuffed up, while the fella hops back in his Toyota sh*tbox and drives off like nothing happened.

 

And Pete the Porker? The useless sod is already at the bar, texting me “where u at bruv?” as I stand there in the middle of Soi 6, trying to piece together what’s left of my sense of humor.

 

Moral of the story, lads? Driving in Thailand is like Thai go-go bar tabs, you never quite know how badly you’re getting shafted until it’s all already too late.

 

Best regards,

The Original Bob.

Up yours O Bob, you know that your wrong hey .

You ram someones ass  your traveling too close or too fast.

He should've  Make You  pay him a Few thousand THB for the inconvenience .  

Have a nice day ,,  🙏

  • Agree 1
Posted

Mistake 1: you are riding a Harley, not a real motorbike.
Mistake 2: anyone who rides/drives thru soi 6, does not understand soi 6.
Mistake 3: OR you watch the 'nature' around you, OR you watch all the other idiots on the road (any road!). Both is not possible, and leading to 'situations'.

  • Haha 1
Posted
6 hours ago, Lacessit said:

I have never understood the psychology behind owning the world's biggest vibrator.

If size does matter, then a Harley throbbing between your legs is quite an expensive way of suggesting one is made of much more!

  • Haha 1
Posted
52 minutes ago, ChrisKC said:

If size does matter, then a Harley throbbing between your legs is quite an expensive way of suggesting one is made of much more!

What sex is "Harley" and does it charge?

Posted
33 minutes ago, rough diamond said:

What sex is "Harley" and does it charge?

I think it is masculine, and whilst not charging, unless its an electric model, does require expensive maintenance to keep its throbbing up to scratch and for the appropriate levels of thrust!

Posted
12 hours ago, SoCal1990 said:

old Toyota Altis, looking like it's an old repainted Bangkok taxi, decides to stomp on the brakes right in front of me. No indication, no warning, nothing. I yank the brakes, but it’s too late

I reckon you were distracted by all the scantily clothes young women calling out sexy man. 

 

I'd be suing, I'm sure there's a law that compensates foreigners who are distracted by these women and having accidents every day. 

 

Good luck with your law suit 👍

 

Posted

I wasted 3 minutes of my life reading this garbage.

Please give a warning to the more discerning AN readers that it’s “Bob” posting so your drivel can be swerved.

It’s becoming confusing with so many posters changing names. E.G @susanlea who was shamed into changing his moniker. Now I find that the far right troll thaibeachlover has morphed into the Harrisbore

Posted
10 hours ago, Harrisfan said:

 

I spent 2 hours vomiting, dodgy dinner.

I’m sure AN readers wish you a speedy recovery Beach. 
Well some of ‘em.

Posted
1 hour ago, ChrisKC said:

I think it is masculine, and whilst not charging, unless its an electric model, does require expensive maintenance to keep its throbbing up to scratch and for the appropriate levels of thrust!

Are you sure they are masculine?

I have heard that they seem to be very temperamental especially when you want some action in a hurry and they suddenly discharge unwanted liquids when you forgot about their periodic maintenance!

Posted
13 hours ago, SoCal1990 said:

Mates, let me tell you, I don’t know what it is, but the universe seems to have it out for me lately. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s bad luck. Or maybe it’s just that Thailand simply cannot handle a man of my stature, good looks, and wealth roaring through the streets on a 900-pound chromed Milwaukee masterpiece.

 

So, there I was, yesterday afternoon, taking my beloved Harley down Soi 6, heading to meet my old mate Pete the Porker for a few tins. I’m feeling good, looking sharp, got my aviators on, leather vest in this 36-degree heat because fashion is pain, and the engine purring like a high-class BJ Queen.

 

I glide down the soi, weaving through the usual mix of punters, bar sluts, and wide-eyed first-timers still trying to process the sheer carnage of what they’ve just walked into. A few lovely ladies give me the nod (standard for a baller like me), and I’m thinking, Yeah, Bob, you know you’ve still got it.

 

And then, disaster.

 

Out of nowhere, some absolute tosser in a battered old Toyota Altis, looking like it's an old repainted Bangkok taxi, decides to stomp on the brakes right in front of me. No indication, no warning, nothing. I yank the brakes, but it’s too late. The front wheel locks up, the handlebars wobble, and suddenly, BOOM—I’m down. Bob, the king of Soi 6, now lying in the middle of the one lane Soi like a bruised mango, my Harley keeled over like a beached whale.

 

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of my own rage boiling over. And then, the laughter. Of course, the peanut gallery absolutely loved that one. Slappers cackling, motocy taxi drivers pointing, even some pasty bloke in cargo shorts gave me a thumbs up. Real funny, yeah? Watching a man’s ego get obliterated in broad daylight?

 

I pick myself up, dust off my jeans, wipe off my boots, and turn to the idiot responsible for this catastrophe. He’s stepped out of his car now, a middle-aged local bloke in knockoff Ray-Bans and a shirt that says “Red Bull Champions 2014.” The type who probably spends his days cutting people off in traffic and his nights trying to convince karaoke girls that he’s a pilot.

 

I hit him with my best intimidating mug-shot stare.

 

“Mate, what the actual f*** was that?”

 

The bloke shrugs. Shrugs! Like I just asked him what his favorite noodle stall is. Then he hits me with, “Farang not careful.”

 

Farang not careful?! I nearly blew a gasket on the spot. I was gliding through that soi like a majestic panther before this absolute numpty of the highest order decided to pull a handbrake turn for no reason.

 

I point to my bike. “You see that, yeah? That’s 2,800,000 baht of pure American steel you just laid out like a cheap deck chair.”

 

Does he care? No. In fact, now he’s getting annoyed at me, like I’m the inconvenience in his day! A small crowd is gathering. More bar girls watching now, some old expat lads leaning against a bar railing, enjoying the show.

 

Then, out of nowhere, this fella tries to walk back to his car like it’s case closed.

 

Oh, no. Not today. Bob's not having it. 

 

I step in front of his door. “Oi, mate, not so fast. Who’s paying for the damage to my Harley?”

 

He sighs, takes off his sunglasses, and says the words:

 

“Not my problem farang.”

 

And that’s when I knew it was game over. This was one of those classic Thailand moments where, no matter what, the farang is always in the wrong. I could have had a dashcam, sworn witness statements, and a handwritten apology from the grandfather of Pattaya himself, and I’d still be the one walking away with a lighter wallet and a fresh dose of humiliation. 

 

And sure enough, before I can argue further, a couple of motocy taxi runts start shaking their fingers at me. One even says, “You go too fast farang.”

 

Mate, I was going ten kilometers an hour. I’ve seen coconuts roll faster.

 

But what can you do? Welcome to Pattaya. I’m left standing there, sweaty, pissed off, my Harley scuffed up, while the fella hops back in his Toyota sh*tbox and drives off like nothing happened.

 

And Pete the Porker? The useless sod is already at the bar, texting me “where u at bruv?” as I stand there in the middle of Soi 6, trying to piece together what’s left of my sense of humor.

 

Moral of the story, lads? Driving in Thailand is like Thai go-go bar tabs, you never quite know how badly you’re getting shafted until it’s all already too late.

 

Best regards,

The Original Bob.

Your self assessment of yourself is over the moon!

With that attitude, whether riding a Harley or a Barfly, you definitely would meet disaster!

 

I very much doubt the veracity of your post, but your high nosed attitude is disgusting.

  • Sad 1

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