The People: Motorbike Driver

In order to keep your interest when I don’t have anything that exciting to write about, I’ve decided to start a new segment on the blog which I’m going to call “The People.” In this segment, which I’ll do every two weeks or so, I’ll analyze a typical (or perhaps stereotypical) Cambodian. Please bear in mind, however, that there are almost always exceptions to the rule and that the personas I describe are the “more often than not” of the genre.

As the heading may suggest, the first installment will be the motorbike driver.

He (it’s always a he) is waiting on every corner. He’s wearing leather sandals or flip flops, slacks (some nicer than others), a long-sleeve, button-down shirt, and, more often than not, a baseball cap adorning the logo of, believe or not, an American baseball team (unfortunately the Yankees tend to prevail, though I’ve seen Red Sox, Tigers, and Indians hats as well).

For the most part, he’s pretty lazy. He has an intersection which is his ‘territory’ where he waits for his usual customers. Throughout the day, he will move from corner to corner at the same intersection, depending where the shade is. His balance is incredible, not only in his ability to weave through the snarled and chaotic traffic of the city, but in his ability to somehow lie across his motorbike and fall sleep.

If you (you being a foreigner) are walking down the street, you will be approached by not only the driver whose territory you’re in, but by passing motorbike drivers as well. ‘Territorial’ motorbike drivers will rouse from their sleep at the corner, start their motorbike and drive the short distance from their location (as little as twenty feet) to you, using the only two words of English they know to see if you want a ride: “Motorbike, sir?” If they are even lazier, they will remain on their motorbike and shoot their hand into the air, and only if you respond in the affirmative (with a nod or a smile) will they move from their position. The passing motorbike driver will also use his scant English to solicit a customer, though he will do so as he whizzes by, almost without looking back, and continuing on his way unless he receives the answer he’s looking for.

Now, should you for some strange reason wish to walk, instead of take a motorbike, you will get a funny look, for no one walks anywhere in Cambodia except by absolute necessity (this is especially true of foreigners). Should you speak even basic Khmer (as I now can) and respond to the moto driver in the negative in Khmer (‘aht-day’- no, or ‘dahr’ – walk), he and any surrounding moto driver will start laughing hysterically. For some reason, he is incredibly amused by not only your desire to walk, but by the fact that you can speak even a word of his language. A brief note about motorbike drivers in groups: if you are walking and turn down a moto driver, for some reason surrounding moto drivers believe that you may want a ride with them (as if their moto is nicer or they look friendly), resulting in a deluge of motorbike offers (if I decide to make the twenty minute walk to work instead of moto-ing, I will get asked fifteen to twenty times if I want a motorbike).

Should you accept the solicitations, you must first bargain with the driver before getting on the motorbike. He will often start out at one dollar (or 4000 riels), though a short ride with a familiar driver is only 1000 riels. It may seem silly to squabble over as little as 500 riels (as often is the case), but it is essential to set the right price not for money’s sake, but as a matter of principle. You’re much more likely to get a good price if you can haggle in Khmer.

After haggling, you hop on his motorbike and tell him where to go. One would think that a moto driver who makes their living driving others around for a living would have a good sense of the city in which he works. This could not be further from the truth. In fact, it’s shocking to meet a motorbike driver that actually knows where he is going. What will usually happen – as I learned my first week here – is that your motorbike driver will nod vigorously, assuring you he knows exactly where your destination is. The fact of the matter is, however, that he has no idea where your destination is (and only rarely does he know the names of the most major streets) and only wants to ensure that he gets your money. If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll be in the same boat as your driver, who will just drive straight until you direct him otherwise. Therefore, it is essential to know almost exactly where you’re going before you set off. The matter is complicated slightly by the house numbering system (see prior entry ‘Going Postal’), but there is still no excuse for the motorbike driver’s ignorance of the city he lives in.

If you know where you’re going, though, the ride is quite enjoyable. At speeds that feel fast, but are actually not so, the driver zips in and out of traffic, drives on the wrong side of the street, and runs red lights and stop signs (all common practices here). Most importantly, he will get you to your destination quickly, safely (it’s all relative), and cheaply.

He is lazy yet graceful, poorly informed yet persistent. He is a motorbike driver.