I guess I thought I was already pretty good on my motorbike. I’d put about 9,000km (5,592 miles) behind me in a little under seven months and I had a left side full of road rash scars from my first fall which was a constant reminder to be less of an idiot on the road. Melaka seemed doable.

My village was rural. And rural meant chickens, goats, sheep, cows, water buffalo, monitor lizards, and the occasional horse ran freely. My first week riding my bike, a pair of startled goats darting into the road sent me sliding across the blacktop for an acutely painful but non life-threatening lesson in rural motorbiking. [Read more…]