A Motorbike in a Mad Place

A motorbike in a mad place

When still in Australia, I pondered deeply and discussed extensively with many people the idea of buying a motorbike when in Indonesia and the reactions I received were very mixed. From my parents (whose concern I most certainly understand) and family, the worry was obvious and vocal, although it seemed to me that it was understood (maybe as a result of previous disregard) that "Lindsay, you idiot, this is such a stupid idea" would not help in changing my mind". It's hard to explain to those who haven't spent time riding motorbikes, but it really is like the ultimate freedom (with the ultimate consequences), I imagine it's a little like what flying would feel like.

From those who had travelled extensively, particularly in Asia, opinions were more varied. There were those who understood that the motorbike is undoubtedly the car of Asia and knew how essential and helpful they can be (particularly in getting to know a place when their public transport system is slow, limited in locations, and full of "pencopet" or pickpockets). On the other hand, there were few who could say that after viewing the traffic situation in crowded third world cities that it looked either safe or inviting. All of this weighed on my mind. But I must admit, its a strange feeling being told you're an absolute fool for even considering riding a motorbike when you see the whole population using them; whole families of four on a bike together, really young teenage boys driving too fast, and equally young but sheepish girl in a jilbab driving too slow, to a woman who could be your grandma, and yes, they're in the same traffic as you're fearing.

Before I left, I chatted with a friend from my Indonesian class who had just returned from doing a similar 6 months of study in Indonesia. He is much calmer, more cautious and sensible than I am and his thoughts were as follows: Everyone will be freaking out about driving when they arrive and will commit firmly to staying off the roads as they look far too insane, one person will then get a motorbike and start getting to see everything and by the end of semester most (including my friend) will follow and be driving around and embracing the Indonesian way of life. In my case, having already ridden bikes here in Indonesia, in India and recently in Laos as well as surviving an accident or three, I figured I would cut the bullshit, not wait half a semester and just get right into looking for a bike.

In the world of Indonesian "motors", the word for bike used everywhere because it is pretty much assumed you wont own a car (I haven't met anyone yet who does), there are two styles of bike. There is the "bebek" which translates to duck but which in the West would be called a scooter and they are without question the norm. They come in all varieties from old Vespas to super fast Hondas and everything in between. They can be fully automatic, semiautomatic (needing the feet to click the gears up and down) and obviously the manual bebek (these are rare) with a clutch. The other type of bike in Indonesia, the bike we would usually know in the Australia, big and gnarly and always with a clutch is called a "motor laki-laki" which translates to a bike for a man (the sexism runs deep here, in my class on gender the other day, I was told by a fellow student in what i think was an attempt to justify the gender inequality which exists in Islam that it was the same in Christianity, just look at the story of Adam, he was Alone in the garden of Eden and needed a "pendamping" or helper, maybe to clean up, wash the dishes, and that's why God created Eve). Anyway, true to the phrase, you will never see a woman riding a motor laki-laki but they are really cool and I must admit that once I saw a few I was pretty set on the idea of getting one.

The strange thing is, despite the fact there is no doubt (at least in my mind) that the "man bikes" are much cooler, it seems a thing in Asia to like the newest technology and many guys will tell you that in fact riding a "motor bebek/cewek (woman)" is actually more trendy, but hey, they've never seen Easy Rider.

I started asking my friends about buying one of these "Man" bikes and so after trying to tell me I would be cooler on a bebek and realising I wasn't sold on the idea, they agreed to take me out shopping for a bike. I went looking with my friend Heru who had recently finished his degree in motor-mechanics because he seemed to know what he was on about. The only problem for me was that rocking up to a shop full of rev-head Indonesians when you've got long blonde hair and look like a spring chicken is that the seedy, tattooed characters selling the bikes get big dollar signs flashing in their eyes the moment you arrive cant be expected to be given a price which is even half reasonable. After this occurred a few times we decided that Heru would look into the bike for me and that we should just go to the biggest Mall in Yogyakarta, head into their underground parking facility and wander around until I saw a bike I liked and then Heru would track one down. The bike I found was the Yamaha RX (racing experiment) King, considered to be the bike of the "rampok" or robber in Indonesia, and fuck me they are cool.

Heru got on the case and within a few days he had set up a meeting to check out an RX King from 2002 with a dude who was heading back to Sumatra to live, Heru told me the engine was good but there seemed to be a small issue with the steering. When I showed up I saw the guy I might be buying the bike off and was immediately a little worried, he was a very sketchy looking long haired fellow with a bad look in his eyes. But the bike, my god, it was incredible, electric blue and it had obviously been modified, so at least the exterior looked good. I hopped on in a small back-street with alot of people watching, forgot everything I had learned in my motorbike licence test not three weeks before and stalled about three times (not even making it to a main road). Once I got things sorted it was great until I started going a little faster and then I realised what Heru was talking about with the steering, the bike turned to the right with no help of its own. With the combination of my repeated stalls in the back lane (which is a real issue here because the roads are far too crowded and dangerous to be stalling constantly) and the dodgy seller who would be gone in a week if anything went wrong, I decided I needed time to think.

I spent the next few days shattered over my performance on the bike with the clutch and having to come to terms with the fact I might be riding a Bebek for my time here. But the truth was, I was the one who had stalled it and maybe I wasn't ready to be on the Indonesian roads on a bike like that.

A few days later I was at the local watering hole (Cafe Bintang) after viewing a great exhibition with another friend who works as a painter and he suggested that he could find me an RX King, at least just to look at if I was interested. I said yes and the next morning we went to a small shop (Called Motor "Putra" which is another word for man, as might be expected, not a woman in sight) and found a good selection of second-hand bikes. From the start my eye was set on a really cool black one. I walked around it and tried to look like I knew what I was talking about and then it came to that awkward point where the guy asked me if I'd like to try it, and what idiot wouldn't want to try the merchandise he was looking to buy. I quickly walked out to the street to see that not only was this not the quiet alley I had been stalling in the other day, it was a really crowded main road with bikes, cars and buses going in all directions.

I still don't really know what changed in my approach but I put on a helmet, made sure the rev's were high enough so I wouldn't stall and bolted out in to the traffic. It was a great feeling flying along and at one point the traffic cleared on a straight and I was able to open it up and see what the bike could do (which is plenty more than I need, it goes nuts in third gear). I returned to the shop, paid a deposit and went home to collect my helmet and the rest of the money. Later that night I returned to pay in full but was still a million rupiah short (about $100AU), they kept the books for the bike but nonetheless let me ride it home and told me I could return in the morning. When I got home, things started to go a little pear-shaped and my kos friends were quick to point out some of the problems I hadn't noticed. Firstly, the break lights and indicators only worked intermittently, there was no horn, the key wouldn't open the petrol tank and after sitting the bike for half an hour at my kos we realised that there was a fuel leak which quickly filled the area with the unpleasant smell of petrol.

After listening to all my kos friends tell me how much of a fool i was, how i had bought a "motor buset" or bullshit bike (all in good fun of course), I was pretty furious because most of the problems I was now dealing with hadn't been visible when in the shop (for example, the clean white tiles of the shop didn't have the same grimy oil that the floor of my kos now did) so i resolved to crack the shits in the morning. In fact, it actually kept me awake that night, thinking about my bike and how its always a bad idea to rush into investments of any kind in countries like Indonesia.

In the morning, I had a quick discussion with the friends from my kos who assured me that if the fucker who sold me the bike wouldn't play ball and fix the list of problems I had written up, that we would all go down to his shop together to ruff him up, or alternatively burn his shop down (they seemed fairly serious and I love a bit of people's justice, so that made me feel good).

Anyway, back to the shop I rode, praying that my bike (which had leaked all night) wouldn't run out of petrol as the tank couldn't be opened. In addition, this constituted my third time riding a motorbike with a clutch and it showed. The whole way there I dropped the clutch out too fast, causing the bike to jump like mad, stalled at every intersection I stopped at, and generally made a hazard of myself. I arrived in one piece at the shop ready to try and let loose in my best angry Indonesian but as is often the case in Indonesia, people want to avoid conflict and after giving them my list they told me to go and eat something and come back in an hour (can you imagine mechanics in Australia getting anything done in an hour, impossible).

I've now had a week driving and I'm quickly learning the ways of the roads. It's interesting, it is undoubtedly dangerous, but alot of what I see to be the dangerous aspect is in the Indonesian driving style: weaving through traffic without looking , etc. But the interesting thing is that here the roads run on the rule that you are totally responsible for what's in front of you, so provided you don't do anything sudden, usually people just weave their way past you. Also, considering I usually have to call the RACV when my battery goes flat because I'm so useless, I've had to learn a little about the world of auto-motives. What the choke does for example (I wont explain here, but I know that if in the morning I can't start my bike, that I shouldn't crack the shits, just pull out the choke). Today, I even changed the oil on my bike, impressive no?