I started in the early morning in Hoi An, to make sure that I could ride more than 250 kilometers to Kontum. But on this day, I should not arrive in Kontum. Instead, I learned the frustrating aspects of being a Minsk owner.
The first one and a half hours passed relatively easily, I missed a turn, but came back on the right road. After that I filled up my bike, it only run few kilometers further on, and then it broke down. My attempts to restart it failed. I pushed the bike to the next workshop. Thus began my repair odyssey.
The first mechanic’s attempts lasted for 45 minutes, half of the time I had to use kick-start. When the first mechanic realized that his Minsk-specific knowledge was not sufficient for the repair, he called in a colleague. The second mechanic drove up on an old Honda. His mustache showed additional expertise. He confirmed the impression replacing a missing gasket with a cut out piece of cigarette packaging. After another 40 minutes, he brought my bike back to life. How could I doubt the glorious Minsk only for a minute?
I went with the hope that this was the only unexpected stop. But after eight kilometers, the Minsk fell silent again. I was frustrated. In the next workshop, mechanic number three went to work. He tried his best, but localized the problem at the wrong place. His conclusion was that he could fix it with the right spare part, but that he couldn’t obtain anywhere near. My mood worsened again. I wondered how I could continue my journey. Ultimately I decided to seek a second (fourth) opinion.
After I had pushed my bike for 50 meters, a motorcycle tour guide stopped next to me and offered to help. With his help I could specifically ask for a mechanic with Minsk-experience. Ten kilometers away, there was one. I was towed by a scooter there. It took mechanic number four half an hour of work to get the Minsk running again. After a few kilometers the bike broke down in the same manner as before. The second trial of mechanic number four was success.
Having spent five hours at repair shops, I drove on. At an intersection I followed the signs for the Ho Chi Minh Highway. It was the most beautiful stretch of road I've driven on in Vietnam so far, the disadvantage of this road was that was that I was going North instead of South. After 30 kilometers going in the wrong direction, I realized my mistake and turned around.
With my accumulated delay I had no chance to reach my intended destination for the day Kontum. Instead, I went in this direction as far as I could make it until dusk. I ended up in a hotel in the small town of Kham Duc. This time I was definitely far off the beaten path.
The first one and a half hours passed relatively easily, I missed a turn, but came back on the right road. After that I filled up my bike, it only run few kilometers further on, and then it broke down. My attempts to restart it failed. I pushed the bike to the next workshop. Thus began my repair odyssey.
The first mechanic’s attempts lasted for 45 minutes, half of the time I had to use kick-start. When the first mechanic realized that his Minsk-specific knowledge was not sufficient for the repair, he called in a colleague. The second mechanic drove up on an old Honda. His mustache showed additional expertise. He confirmed the impression replacing a missing gasket with a cut out piece of cigarette packaging. After another 40 minutes, he brought my bike back to life. How could I doubt the glorious Minsk only for a minute?
I went with the hope that this was the only unexpected stop. But after eight kilometers, the Minsk fell silent again. I was frustrated. In the next workshop, mechanic number three went to work. He tried his best, but localized the problem at the wrong place. His conclusion was that he could fix it with the right spare part, but that he couldn’t obtain anywhere near. My mood worsened again. I wondered how I could continue my journey. Ultimately I decided to seek a second (fourth) opinion.
After I had pushed my bike for 50 meters, a motorcycle tour guide stopped next to me and offered to help. With his help I could specifically ask for a mechanic with Minsk-experience. Ten kilometers away, there was one. I was towed by a scooter there. It took mechanic number four half an hour of work to get the Minsk running again. After a few kilometers the bike broke down in the same manner as before. The second trial of mechanic number four was success.
Having spent five hours at repair shops, I drove on. At an intersection I followed the signs for the Ho Chi Minh Highway. It was the most beautiful stretch of road I've driven on in Vietnam so far, the disadvantage of this road was that was that I was going North instead of South. After 30 kilometers going in the wrong direction, I realized my mistake and turned around.
With my accumulated delay I had no chance to reach my intended destination for the day Kontum. Instead, I went in this direction as far as I could make it until dusk. I ended up in a hotel in the small town of Kham Duc. This time I was definitely far off the beaten path.
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| Kham Duc |
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