Chicken vs scooter

Alright, so remember how I promised you a story about a chicken and a motor-scooter? Well here it is:

So on my second day in Timor, Carrick (Connor's older brother, if anyone missed that) approached me and said: “Would you be interested in learning how to ride a scooter while you're here?” I told him that I was very interested, that I had always wanted to learn how to ride. He said: “Good, let's go!” This, I was a bit taken back by, for I didn't think he meant right that instant. But off we went into Timor's intense sun, in helmets and protective clothing.

Carrick drove us out to a large salt-flat where it was open wide and the ground was soft and silty. He hopped off, and I slid forward on the scooter so as to be in the driver's seat. He went over all the controls and mechanics of the thing, showing me how to change gear and break. I asked way too many inane questions, mostly so that I could drag out the classroom session before it switched to on the road time. Carrick quickly grew wise to my games and told me to just try it out in first gear and if it got too scary I could always just bale off the bike and into the sand.

I honestly can't say what I was so scared of because by the time I had finished my first lap of the salt-flat I was feeling great. The tricky shifting was still giving me some problems but I just seemed to absorb everything else. Round the flat I went, weaving in and out of prickly, sun-bleached skeleton trees and avoiding large ruts from riders past.

Carrick finally flagged me down and I quickly went to him. “Now try it with me on the back!” and I responded with an oh so elegant: “...uh. What?”

“Don't worry, you'll be fine!”

So he hopped on and I tried to take off like I had been before, but let me tell you, having another person on the bike completely changes the dynamic. It changes the balance and the way you pick up speed, it changes the way you shift and drastically alters how much you have to turn the handle bars before you change direction. The answer: not very much! One tiny alteration from strait and you find yourself headed towards a tree or a giant manure pile.

After the practice we decided to head to a nearby shore line and walk the beach for a bit before heading back. It was at this point that we checked our phones to see the time and found that we each had several missed calls, all from Connor. I call him back to find out that he got back from his work orientation early and has been locked out of the house for three hours. He was not very happy. As we walked back to the bike Carrick said: “I'll get us back to the main road, but then we'll switch and you can drive us home. After so little practice I didn't want to drive the main road and so I used Connor as an excuse. “Connor's pretty mad that he's been locked out for so long, I think you should just drive.”

“Oh it's okay. You don't drive much slower than me, you'll be fine.”

So we shot off to the main road and when we arrived there, Carrick hopped off and I slid forward, just like before. Honestly, it wasn't that scary. Smooth beach roads with the occasional pothole, but plenty of room to maneuver around them. I like to think I was doing pretty well. That is until we approached the corner of chicken doom.

We were just passing a row of quaint little houses with stone fences, coming up to a turn that first went out slightly to the right and then a hard left around a blind corner. I was just approaching the soft right when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and heard and horrible “BUCAWK!”. That's when the attack came, not from the front, but from the side, from a chicken that I didn't even know was there.

I was mostly dealt a glancing blow off my left shoulder, but Carrick caught most of the feathery furry in his left shoulder. The ordeal had me flustered and I hadn't seen them until it was too late. Two gigantic potholes around the blind left corner, each about the size of a manhole cover, each a few inches deep. I only saw them just before impact and didn't have time to avoid them. I hit them both, doing about 30 miles an hour. Carrick almost bounced off the back, we were jostled so hard.

All the bouncing and slamming had kicked the bike out of gear, so when I tried to accelerate the bike through the rest of the corner, I got nothing but a revved engine.

At that point I calmly pulled over to the side of the road and Carrick said: “I have never heard of that happening before to anyone. Do you want me to drive?” To which I calmly replied: “Yes thank you, I'm a bit too flustered right now.” So he took over and drove us home.

What a fun first riding experience! Not one I'm likely to forget.

Why did the chicken cross the road? To get taken out, mid-air, by me on a scooter.

Hope you liked my story! I'll have to tell you of my battle with the ants in the new house next time.

P.S. This is the view from our balcony at the new house.

.