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Published: August 23rd 2009
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Once upon a time there were four boys from England, two brown and two white.
They flew into Hanoi in Vietnam from Laos because they were too lazy to get the bus.
They decided to rent four old Russian Minsk motorbikes which wasn't the best idea because they kept breaking down and the gear change was like trying to break into a safe.
It took them two days to realise the up and down combination of the foot to change the gears.
Having never drove a manual motorbike Phil was slightly nervess when the mechanic who we rented the
bikes off wanted him to drive him to the petrol station with a 5 gallon plastic barrel in order to
fill all the bikes up in the chaos of Hanoi's roads. Phil succeeded with a close encounter with a BMW.
Back at the bike shop our first aim was simple, to drive back to out hotel, which was 500 meters down the road.
It sounds like a simple task, but Jetwar and Andy missed the turning. After an hour we had them both
them back safe and ready to go on a 1000km journey through the north-west
of Vietnam and over the highest road and the most beautiful scenery in the country.
We set off smoothly until will pulled into a bus lane to ask someone for directions out of Hanoi.
Troubles kick starting the motorbikes persisted until Phil's wouldn't start at all. The sky opened and the monsoon kicks in....this ain't just rain...this is RAIN!!
The four Englishmen's ears ring with the thunderess boom of a bolt of lightning that strikes a house ten metres away on the side of the road and we are pounded by the worlds largest power shower from hell.
After nearly every local on a motorbike stops to try and help in the pouring rain with no avail, a call is made to the mechanic and he arrives with his twelve year old assistant. After half an hour of tinkering
they render the motorbike drivable once again and we head off at two miles an hour through
flooded roads of Hanoi's bustling traffic firing out enough fumes to give you asthma in a day.
We make it to the edge of Hanoi and we can now exceed two miles an hour. We hit at least 5
miles an hour, as pot holes and small moving objects dart out of the road.
Although this is still not a good idea when Jetwar manages to fall off his bike because he only only used his front break and forgot about the back one.
Team India race ahead and Phil and Andy team up. Good job cause Andy runs out of petrol at 4 in the afternoon and Phil races to a petrol station...unlucky breaking down on the way back to save his brother and wheeling his bike back in the greatest anti-climatic hero scene ever....
The villagers all try to get the motorbike started, and after an hour of work darkness sets in and they are still at work.
Suddenly...vooooooom...a huge pile of smoke pumps into the darkness and the Soviet two wheel tank otherwise known as the "Panchenko machine" is back in action. A seven pound tip is much appreciated by the villagers and the Panchenko brothers make there way to
the next town in darkness.
Jetwar's phone doesn't work so the Panchenko bros leave in the morning to the next town. The rain pours down in the afternoon and the Panchenko
brothers shiver their way through the windy roads. Phil breaks suddenly as a jeep over takes a bus and Andy breaks too late and slides off his bike towards the
moving jeepcovering his head with his hands as he slides forwards. The jeep must have zipped by and misses his peanut sized head and oversized body which suffers only minor cuts.
A hot shower in the next town is welcomed and with no sign of team India, the Panchenko Brothers set out to the next town.
Phil's phone rings at a pit stop of mango and coffee in a can...it is Jetwar who seems to have lost Amar.
Little does team India know that they are right across the road from each other and only a motorbike accident to someone else reunites them.
Team Panchenko arrive and the slow motion running hug awaits....this never happens and a mainly handshake is all that is needed.
Three buy inflatable powerangers for the back of our motorbikes, but after Phil's inflatable turkey was stolen by a small child he invests in an orange giraffe much to the amusement of the locals.
We set off once again in
a convoy of four never to loose each other again. Ten minutes after the purchase of the inflatable toys Andy and Jet take the wrong turn, or as they call it "special route". Phones are rendered useless as the reception out here is a good as a solar powered torch.
Jet and Andy go through mud up to there knees while Amar and Phil fly round concrete bends of joy.
Finally meeting again the next day and stories flow. We drive the last stretch together. Two thousand metres above sea level, as many bends and two landslides later we celebrate as we arrive in Sapa over a pizza and wine.
The next day we put our bikes on the train and sleep overnight arriving back in the bustling city of Hanoi at 6am. We set off and suddenly Phil gets a call...Andy's bikes doesn't start. Amar and Jet head back and
Phil makes the heroic journey back to help my brother...but...his bike doesn't start up again. We realise some little bastard has stolen most of our petrol from our tanks. the bike is wheeled back to the train station where Andy is and they fill up and
with a litre...Phil's hero moment must wait for another time.
We get back to the hotel and there is no sign of team India..they arrive half an hour later and had run out of petrol as well.
They book a tour to Halong Bay to end their journey in Vietnam and they lived happily ever after....and then...
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