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Yikes…my husband! Holding various parts and pieces of a crashed rental motorbike, he mumbled something about wiping out on a curve on this hilly island. My first worry wasn’t him---after all, he was a responsible adult---it was the safety of two of our three teenage sons who had joined us on Santorini Island. Oh, they’re fine, he glumly admitted. But he was not.
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Ever since, I’ve been skittish around motorbikes. Especially rentals.
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Each day and night, we inevitably hear the wail of an ambulance siren and instinctively suspect a motorbike accident. There’s another motorbike accident. With our lodgings near the Bangkok Hospital, it’s easy to spot the victims. In one case, we winced in empathy as we spied a rider/passenger wrapped in neat, sterile-white bandages around his knees/legs and elbows/arms. Painful looking lacerations skidded along one side of his face. He could easily be mistaken for a mumbling mummy stumbling along the sidewalk. As he moved, the word agony comes to mind. Don’t think these patients were Evel Knievel wannabes either.
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I’m sure it’s because the guy is terrified to cross these busy Thai streets. They are crammed/jammed with traffic. Mostly dangerous motorbikes---yikes!