He awaits me beneath a spreading tree, today’s dashing knight on a Honda. His eyes pierce me, unwavering. I take in his manly raisin face, his rakish yellow hard hat. Huskily, he whispers: “Hello madam, motobye?”
We dance around the price, back and forth, but we both know where this is leading. Soon enough, I’ve hitched up my skirt and clambered on board. We ease into the traffic, and, with all the speed and precision of an inadequately maintained lawnmower, he takes me to where I want and need to be.
I’ve been here before, and I know I’ll be here again. A different guy, for sure, a different tree.
But still the same old sordid xe ôm story.
From Diary of an easy rider on 13th January 2011.