By hanging on to dear life, that’s how! Mwahahahaha

I didn’t think I’d be 57 going around Ho Chi Minh on the back of a motorcycle, but there I was at fifty-plus-seven enjoying, and at the same time dreading, every minute of it.

I first rode on the back of a motorcycle about two decades back, in the island of Dumaguete. We were on a press junket, and a friend of a friend came by on a motorcycle. It wasn’t long before I found myself at the back of it, riding on a dark stretch of highway at breakneck speed! It was exhilarating and I quickly understood the appeal of it, even the hint of sexiness in it.

Back in Ho Chi Minh, my girlfriends and I had signed up for a motorbike tour of the city. We met our driver/guides at the market—mine being a Tourism student who wanted to practice his English speaking skills—and off we went!

I was amazed at the sheer number of motorbikes on the road. There were hardly any cars, and it was fascinating to see these two-wheelers careen over roads and highways without bumping into each other. The bikes were so close that I thought I could reach out to a fellow passenger on another bike. At times, it felt like I was in some sort of community, however transitory, of travelers on their way to a destination, silently acknowledging and respecting each other’s distance.

What I enjoyed the most were the detours. First stop: Kieu Bao, an eatery where one can park motorbikes inside. We munched on fried rolls and veggies at the beginning of the tour, so that we’d have the strength to hold on to the bikes, I suppose! In another stop, we learned about the Buddhist monk who burned himself to protest government persecution. I thought how utterly horrible his last few moments on earth were. Yet, we were told that Thich Quang Duc remained silent and motionless. The flower market reminded me of Dangwa in Manila, only this time there were bunches and bunches of lotus. The lotus seed pods looked particularly interesting. We also whirred past boutiques filled with clothes, bags, and shoes and were dropped off at open bar setups hawking street food.

However charming the ride, 57-year-old me could only take so much. After some time, I wondered, why couldn’t the bike have some sort of back rest so I can lean back a little. I wanted to take some photos of the passing scenery but I dare not take my phone out of my bag lest I lose balance. And gosh, what would happen should I lose balance. I’ll tumble out onto the streets, and would very well be crushed by the onslaught of a hundred and one motorbikes. Yes, I have such an active imagination!

And so, it was with a big, wide smile that I welcomed the last stop of our tour: banh mi at a roadside eatery. We slumped down on plastic chairs and laughed over our escapade. It was the perfect way to end the night!