My Harley Disaster...

[digger70]

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 ,,  🙏

[JulesMad]

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'.

[ChrisKC]

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!

[rough diamond]

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?

[ChrisKC]

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!

[steven100]

message too long ....  doe's not compute .... warning ..danger      !!

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Purdey]

Keeping a safe distance from the vehicle in front is the law everywhere.

[SAFETY FIRST]

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 👍

 

[Red Forever]

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

[Red Forever]

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.

[rough diamond]

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!

[ravip]

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.

[GammaGlobulin]

10 hours ago, quake said:

Was this story AI generated. 

 

Partially.

[FriscoKid]

13 hours ago, steven100 said:

Story too long .....   didn't read ....   

 

Don't blame you. Surely you are a very busy guy?

[steven100]

11 hours ago, FriscoKid said:

 

Don't blame you. Surely you are a very busy guy?

well,   it's not that i'm busy it's just I don't want to waste 5 minutes of my life reading that. 

[ujayujay]

On 2/22/2025 at 5:52 AM, save the frogs said:

there's a real person who posts windups in The Pub who calls himself Bob. 

harleys are made in Milwaukee?

 

Yet......Pan America, Sportster S, and Nightster models will be produced at Harley-Davidson's manufacturing plant in Thailand from 2025

[sikishrory]

You should write a book.

[Iron Tongue]

Cool story bro'!  👍

Too bad Penthouse doesn't print letters anymore because you could've sent this one in after changing the driver from a dude to a hot chick.  She would've taken you home and 'administered' to your injuries all afternoon while her staff of professional mechanics rebuilt, upgraded, and even repaints your Harley.

Then your friend Pete the Porker shows up screaming " What are you doing with my (18-yr old) daughter?!!!" 

[harryviking]

On 2/22/2025 at 4:40 AM, 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.

Hmmm...I remember when I took my MC license in 1968 that the teacher told us to keep a safe distance from anything driving in front of you! Lol! I always followed that advice since then with "good results"! You should try it sometimes! 😂 Thai drivers do strange things you know...😆

[Thingamabob]

On 2/22/2025 at 4:40 AM, 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.

You were behind the car in front of you, your fault (assuming that this story is not a fantasy).

[1duckyboy]

Brake lights don't go on with the handbrake.

[Kerryd]

The only thing  missing from the story was a "GoFundMe" link (and a photo credited to the Daily Mail or Mirror).

I used to teach Defensive Driving and one of the key points was, from the moment you start your vehicle until you are at your destination, you HAVE to be aware of your surroundings.

If you KNOW you are going somewhere, you HAVE to think about the route you're going to take. The time of day. The weather. Is it a holiday. Are YOU physically/mentally capable. Is your vehicle reliable.

As you KNOW what soi 6 is like, you KNOW there will be hazards and not just for you. 

Did YOU ever even stop to think that maybe the vehicle driver ahead of you was FORCED to make a sudden stop because some slobber-mouthed geezer was staggering on the road in front of him ?
If YOU had of been paying attention, you would have KNOWN and been LOOKING for potential hazards like that.

And if you were REALLY going just "10km/hr" and couldn't stop on a dime - on a 2.8 mil Harley - and the front wheel locked up and the "handlebars wobbled" then I suspect the problem was YOU and not the guy in front of you. 

 I have an older bike (2003) and it doesn't have ABS but at 10km/hr I have no problem stopping almost instantly. But I pay attention to my surroundings and don't follow people 1 meter from their bumper in a congested soi full of gawkers and trawlers while scanning for the next "Mrs right now".

And if you were riding a Harley down Soi 6 then that is exactly what you were doing. Scoping out the talent to see if any of them would fit on the back of your bike instead of watching the traffic in front of you.

Take responsibility for YOUR own actions and next time, park the bike and WALK.

(And don't forget the "GoFundMe" link next time to add "authenticity" to the story.)

[TheFishman1]

I thought it was done with and then I woke up at 3:40 in the morning took a piss and went back to sleep BOB your stories are so unbelievable if only a third were true TIT

[Red Forever]

On 2/22/2025 at 9:52 AM, Ralf001 said:

 

What is a Trump anthem ?

Village People singing YMCA maybe.

[Grusa]

Welcome to my (very short) ignore list. Even if you are actually already on it, in another guise.

[818Pilot]

So what I read was:

 

Some old Farang that has a “little manhood” complex and thought he was cool, bought a Harley when he came to Thailand even though he’s likely never ridden much in his life. Then as he’s purposely driving in area full of hookers and expats show off and try to look cool likes he’s young and rich, runs into the back of a car and decides to blame the other guy when he clearly has no riding skills and now wants all of us to feel sorry for him.

 

Nope, not happening 

[gargamon]

26 minutes ago, 818Pilot said:

So what I read was:

 

Some old Farang that has a “little manhood” complex and thought he was cool, bought a Harley when he came to Thailand even though he’s likely never ridden much in his life. Then as he’s purposely driving in area full of hookers and expats show off and try to look cool likes he’s young and rich, runs into the back of a car and decides to blame the other guy when he clearly has no riding skills and now wants all of us to feel sorry for him.

 

Nope, not happening 

So what I read was:

AI generated nonsense used to generate traffic. Too bad you fell for it.

[helloagain]

On 2/22/2025 at 4:40 AM, 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.

YOU WERE TO CLOSE, GET OVER IT. WHEN YOU OUT CRUSING LEAVE YOUR EGO AT HOME. PAY ATTENTION ALWAYS.

[Dr. Zorg]

On 2/22/2025 at 8:15 AM, quake said:

Was this story AI generated. 

 

yep

[Dr. Zorg]

On 2/22/2025 at 8:15 AM, quake said:

Was this story AI generated. 

 

yep