Bangkok - City of Rims

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  Bankok, Thailand
Saturday, September 30, 2006

After an arduous journey of 11.5 hours, of incessant babbling by an OAP aussie woman sat next to me, the relative silence of immigration was very welcome. After extensive debate (about what I have no idea... they could have been discussing whether the tate&lyle family sized bags under me eyes were perminebt or whether to have one or two bags of tate&lyle in his coffee... thai like everything sweet and/or hot!) the Naine was admited. The taxi driver, totally want of any english literacy, notices autosport in my hand and gets very excited about michael schumacher. The reason for this it turns out is that they are distantly related. I have NEVER, EVER, experiences skill in handling a car like that. Ladies and Gents... We have found the Stig.

Bangkok it seems is a city of rims. The first instance, and unfortunately the most tastefull is the need to put 20" rude boy rims on '84 Datsuns

me at a buddhist thing

. Horrific.

On arriving at my clean, simple and totally adequate hotel, I was awarded a 7th floor room and a broken lift. 14 flights of stairs in 36 degrees. I was sweating like a black man in bangkok. And on that note... Hi... Hello. Its me.... It turns out I am the only black person in Bangkok. Thai people love to stop and photo things. I think some of Stigs 120km/h moves on the hard sholder wree not due to people stopping to photo the swanky new airport, but to photo the terrified black man in the back of the cab. Something to educate the kids with, perhaps over a ridiculously hot dinner.... enter rim 2. The Rim of Fire.


It turns out that the reason for two bog rolls is use one, and freeze one. The "innocent" prawn salad of last night was the sole contributor to the rim of fre this morning.

On a slightly less intimate note, I renounce my love of Corona, and replace it with Chang beer. Meeting up with a chap from a net forum, the two brits bravely order two beers. About 15 Chang-tastic beers later, I made it home... to sleep... untill about 4am when I am rudely awakened by the glorious sound of tyre squeel and VTEC blat...

Non-car people and Jimbo may want to skip this paragraph...
It turns out that the chavs hace bried the men with guns to let them street race. Watching from the relative safety of a 7th floor balcony, I feared for the fried cricket vendor on the corner. If the Japs are the D! drift kings, these lot are the undisputed U1 understeer champs... Jimbo would be proud. Nice cars, fuly adjustable with the stiffest fronts ever.... Think Pornstar Peter North's penis... - add elephant dose of viagra and some starch. And (for not apparent reason but its my story and i can do what i like) ducktape. THAT stiff. Muppets.

Also I feared for the lives of the hookers on the corner, admitedly slightly less as unlike the fried criket vendor I have no plans in utilising the services of these ladyboys, lady ladys or boy ladys. In 2 hours last nite I was approached 8 times with offers of "king kong", "ping pong", and "happy ending" massages. Notaby once by a self proclaimed lady boy... Enter rim reference three. Sorry it had to be said.

On that note I am off to sample some undoubtably hot breakfast. Some chang induced idiot set the air-con on super mega turbo cold last nite. It was 11 degrees when I woke!

And in a word that's Bangkok! Ciry of opposites... Hot/Cold. Chavtastic/changtastic. Stig racers/street racers. Briliant Place.

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