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Published: August 6th 2007
We noticed them strewn about the length of the esplanade during our first days in Patong - the twenty or so guys propped in worn plastic deck furniture, each with a collection of beat-up mopeds and four-wheel drive vehicles close at hand. At first, it seemed like they may have been guarding the transportation for beachgoers, but soon we realized the suspect looking bunch served a more requisite purpose;
they were the local car rental agencies.
Having planned a four night stay in Phuket, Gina and I envisioned spending our days at the beach and exploring our surroundings on foot. What we hadn’t bargained for was Thailand’s oppressive, energy-sapping heat. On our first day out, we could hardly venture 100 meters before ducking into random shops and restaurants to pirate the air conditioning. We covered no more than a kilometer in our first three days before being forced to retreat to the comfort of our hotel room. Disheartened by all that we were missing, Gina and I decided to rent a car and take a driving tour of Phuket on our final day.
Tucked away in an inconspicuous vendor booth down one of Patong’s many shopping alleys was an
all too familiar sign: Hertz. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to deal with one of the shysters on the esplanade, I approached the gentleman behind the desk and informed him that I was a
#1 Club Gold Member and sought to rent a car. Unimpressed, he informed us that his location had just reopened some two plus years after the tsunami, which devastated Patong, and didn’t have any cars yet. He did offer to call another location in Phuket, but we’d have to take a taxi to and from the site to retrieve the vehicle. Passing on his offer, Gina and I accepted our fate.
Having experienced the sheer chaos of driving in Thailand on our taxi ride from the airport, we knew better than to rent a moped and instead started scoping out a vehicle with girth. Unfortunately, it was nearing noon and few options remained. As we ambled along the beach boulevard, Gina spotted a lime green Jeep Wrangler in the distance and suggested we inquire. The shyster saw us coming and climbed from his chair to greet us, “You want to rent?”
“How much?” I answered, not having the patience to barter.
“1000 Baht,”
was his first volley.
Quickly calculating that it worked out to about $35 US, I nodded in approval not wanting to haggle to save a few dollars. The man began filling-in a neatly typed contract as one of his cronies backed the Jeep into traffic. He then instructed me about the various legal intricacies of the form which was written in Thai. For all I knew, I could have been promising to purchase the door-less, green 4x4.
I John Hancock’ed the contract and handed over a crisp 1000 Baht note. “Need passport, too. I hold until you return car,” he barked motioning towards my bag. I immediately envisioned forty Gene Harold Sawyer III’s running around East Asia with counterfeits of my passport and was extremely reluctant to part with my identification. Glancing over towards Gina with a questioning eye, I asked her opinion on the situation. “I don’t think we have a choice, babe,” she muttered. The man noticed my look of dismay and in a not so reassuring tone promised to “take good care of it.”
Finally conceding to his demand, I handed over my passport for a set of keys and climbed into the Jeep.
Gina and I exchanged nervous laughter and reached for our non-functioning seatbelts. We tugged at the belts for a solid minute before motioning to the rental
agent. Trying to reassure us that it was somehow safe to drive the door-less vehicle without seatbelts in the pandemonium, he crackled, “It’s OK. It’s OK.”
“No, it’s not OK,” I countered. “No seatbelt, no rent,” I concluded in a patronizing tone.
The man then proceeded to tug several more times at our seatbelts in a vain attempt to engage them, knowing that his 1000 Baht rental fee would soon be back in my wallet. Defeated, he motioned us out of the jeep and returned my passport and the 1000 Baht note.
Gina and I continued a bit further down the street before encountering another cluster of men hovering by a row of mopeds. Adjacent sat a gigantic yellow and black 4x4 that somewhat resembled a bumble bee. Like vultures in wait, the men eyed us as we ventured closer before one sprang to his feet and inquired, “Moped?”
Motioning at the bumble bee on wheels, I replied, “That one. How much?”
“1200 Baht,” he responded, clearly pulling a
price from the sky.
“Too much. The man down there wanted 1000,” I countered and began motioning Gina to continue walking.
We had walked about 3 meters before hearing a voice behind us, “Ok. Ok. 1000 Baht.”
As I turned, I saw the little Thai dialing his cell phone and joked with Gina, “Hopefully the seatbelts work on this one.”
He spat some Thai into the phone before closing it and then proceeded to walk towards a moped.
“No moped,” I snapped.
Nodding in the affirmative, I watched as he affixed a helmet to his head and motioned for me to get on the bike behind him. About this time, a blonde guy approached the yellow and black 4x4, got in and drove off. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to conclude that the vehicle we’d hoped for wasn’t a rental.
“What car are you renting me?” I immediately inquired, while motioning towards the departing 4x4.
“I drive you to it. Get on,” he persisted.
Not only weary of mopeds in general, but also acknowledging the lack of a helmet for me, I declined his offer to be driven to another
location. “Come on babe, let’s go,” I said.
By this point, our frustration level was nearing astronomic proportions and we nearly retreated to the hotel. “Let’s try one more,” I said trying to keep Gina’s hope of seeing Phuket alive.
After all, the third time is a charm. Repeating the same scenario, we advanced on a complete stranger hoping to rent a vehicle that looked as if it belonged in a junkyard. A slightly beat-up, 1980s Mitsubishi, sporting rust and a few dents was our flavor of the moment. I explained to the man that we wanted to rent his scrap heap. It must have been a slow day as he responded, “600 Baht.”
Thinking that we had been offered the deal of a lifetime, I pounced on the opportunity, “Deal.”
Once again filling out the rental agreement in Thai, I handed over my passport and 600 Baht. As this process concluded, I spotted another guy emptying belongings from the 4x4 and was pretty sure that we were renting their personal transportation. Subduing my desire to laugh, I gestured for Gina to load our things as I combed the body for dents and scratches. Process complete,
I climbed in the driver’s seat and was relieved that the seatbelt worked without issue. What I hadn’t expected however was that the 4x4 was a manual transmission - only an issue due to my position in the right hand seat.
This should be fun. I shifted the 4x4 into gear and slowly eased out the clutch. We inched into traffic and began our whirlwind tour of Phuket island. As mopeds and cars zoomed past, often in the shoulder or opposing lanes, I worked the transmission through its gears before the engine took on a steady groan. We managed our way through Patong and headed south towards Karon Beach.
Our fuel level was a little under ¼ tank when we started the coastal climb and I decided to find gas before proceeding. Spotting a hand-scrawled
Gasoline sign affixed to a run down building on the side of the road, I guided us into the dirt driveway expecting to find a pump. However, we found what appeared to be a mother playing cashier while her children hand pumped gasoline from a 55-gallon drum. As I handed over 250 Baht, I watched one of the kids crank a gravity pump
until an attached chamber filled to the tape mark showing 250. His sister proceeded to drain the contents into our tank and the whole process was complete. Who knew you could get full service in Thailand?
Gina and I drove the better part of Phuket island over the next several hours, admiring the beauty of secluded beaches and vantage points likely unseen by most tourists. The process of driving was harrowing at best. I frequently found myself dodging oncoming cars, mopeds with several passengers passing us on the shoulder, mothers riding side- saddle on mopeds holding unrestrained children, and people passing over the double-yellow, uphill and around curves. By the end of the day, we were convinced everyone in Phuket must have burned their copy of the
Rules of the Road without reading it.
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krankberg
non-member comment
hahaha
That is one of the best ones yet. I didn't see any pictures of you smoking the tires? Sounds like that place is super shifty, watch your ass.