The Motorcycle Trip - Part One
by Lee Carrick
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: Some strong ones.
Description: The trip was begun with good intentions, but The Black Dog soon put paid to those.
_____________________________________________________________________
As with all adventures I decided to take Hemingway along for the ride. I had considered others, Joyce or Theroux, but they were too complicated or too simple. I needed a reliable man with thick skin. Hemingway was my man. We were about to embark on a one week motorcycle ride around Taiwan; from Kaohsiung and Kentin in the south, through Taidong and Hualien in the east, over the central mountain highway to Taichung in the west and then through the national parks and back to Kaohsiung.
I knew it wasn't going to be the easiest of trips. It was the middle of summer with temperatures in the mid 30's and dangerous UV levels. It only takes a few hours under the sun before human skin begins to resemble glazed pork skin. The cities would be stiflingly hot and sweaty, the coast would be perilously windy and the mountain would be cold with narrow roads. I couldn't wait.
On Sunday morning I woke up around seven, showered, packed my backpack, remembering to include my factor 48 sunscreen, and headed down five flights of stairs to my motorcycle. My Red Kymco Grand King 125. She may not sound like much but to me she represents a freedom that can be found in no other way. I hopped on, started the engine, put on my helmet and sunglasses and set off through the city to Kentin. The first day was to be a short day. Just three hours’ drive south to Taiwan's southernmost point.
The ride to Kentin is always bittersweet. The first one and a half hours are bleak city driving, culminating in a thirty minute drive through the industrial district. There are vast fields and factories pumping out white, yellow and grey gases into the blue sky in a post-apocalyptic scene worthy of any Hollywood movie. However, after passing through here and some other small towns, the road meets the ocean and the mountains for one and a half hours of stunning riding. This is one of my favourite roads in the world. The relief of seeing the bright blue sea and the dense green mountains after riding through the grey blackness of the factories is enough to give hope to the hopeless. Riding on a road where the mountain meets the sea is truly a wonderful experience and Taiwan is full of these roads, which makes it one of the best countries in the world to ride a motorcycle.
I drove through Kaohsiung city in a rush. Well, as much of a rush as one can be in behind an endless line of red lights and slow moving blue trucks. After an hour I hit the chimneys and sighed at their ugliness and then over the bridge and out of the city and into the small towns that snake between Taiwan's major cities. At every red light in these areas the locals point and stare and the children say “momma, look a foreigner”. Westerners don't live in these places so we're still a novelty to all who see our blonde hair, blue eyes and big noses. I stopped briefly at a 7/11 and stocked up on water (and Suntory whiskey). I took a sly drink of the whiskey and rode on. The intense dreariness of Taiwanese roadside towns can easily trick the brain into thinking that you will never reach the coast and the beauty that it brings. Two hours into the trip, depression and impatience was causing a tightness in my chest and I started to think that I should have just stayed at home, got drunk and played guitar. Just as I was about to turn around and head home with my bike between my legs the road opened the buildings became sparse and I began to see the lush green hills appearing from behind the low thin clouds. A broad smile grew across my face and lasted long enough to transform into a joyous laugh as the South China sea presented its self as a carpet of blinding blue water. The road became wider and winding, slicing a pathway between the crashing waves and the still mountain. A greener bluer place is unlikely to exist anywhere on Earth.
As my enthusiasm for life increased so did my speed. I opened up the throttle and overtook buses and cars and scooters and leaned tightly into the bends and at every turn was presented with a new delight. As I began to reach Kentin the roadside became littered with tourist attractions; go-karts, horse riding, water zorbing and theme restaurants decorated with plastic waves from which plastic dolphins leapt. Kentin is a tourist town for both foreign and domestic holidaymakers. It's the only problem with the place. But, if you know how to get off the beaten track, it is also a place for quiet and contemplation.
This trip was not just about going to places; it was as much about running away from places.... and people and beer and cigarettes and drugs and girls. I was on the run and Kentin was the perfect place to start. It's busy enough to get lost in the crowd and quiet enough to feel like you're the only man alive.
I stopped just before I reached Kentin main street and pissed into the bushes before taking another wee drink of the Suntory and then I headed into town in search of the cheapest hotel possible.
I had stayed at small place at the beginning of the street in the past. It was only twelve pounds per night and it was more than comfortable. It had air-conditioning, Wi-Fi, a flat screen TV, overhead shower, double bed with a large eggshell white quilt and it was immaculately clean. I was quite excited to get in and wash the road from my skin and fingernails. I was worried, however, that it might be full. It was peak season.
I shouldn't have worried. I walked into the hotel through the glass automatic doors where the manager or owner was sitting behind her desk. She recognised me and I her and we smiled.
“How are you?” she said. “Long time no see.” She was speaking in Mandarin and I replied. “I'm good. Long time no see. Can I get a room for two nights?” At this point we were speaking with broad grins across our faces. “We have one room left. It's sixty pounds per night,” she said. I was confused. “Last time I was here it was only twelve pounds. I want that room again.” Her face changed quickly and she looked down at some papers on her desk. “There are hostels down the road.” I found out later that the prices are heavily inflated during the summer. I was naive to think otherwise.
I walked out of the hotel dejected and into a clean looking hostel. I took a room without checking it and paid my twelve pounds. The hostel employee spent fifteen minutes explaining the various keys and locks and how they worked before showing me to my room. I use the word room loosely for it was more of a cupboard with four beds. It was so small that it would have been impossible for all four occupants of the room to stand up at the same time in the space that was not taken up by the bunk beds. And it was a shared bathroom. And the beds were tiny and hard. Despite my disappointment the hostel was very clean and the staff friendly. I showered and headed out onto the main street to find food but definitely not beer.
I sipped on the whiskey as I pushed my way through the crowds of tourists who were loitering around the food stalls that lined the street selling fruit, squid, pork knuckle, crickets, Korean chicken and anything else Asian one could imagine. I had discovered on my previous trips to Kentin that the food was, in the main, bad. But I was on a mission to find the stinky tofu lady. Stinky tofu is fermented tofu usually served in sauce made from soy sauce, vinegar, coriander, chili and garlic. To the western nose it smells disgusting but that taste is heavenly. I found her at the top of the street and bought two portions before heading back to the hotel to eat them under a blanket of air conditioning. It was delicious.
After I ate I took Hemingway to the beach. I set up home by a washed-up tree trunk, took off my shirt and read whilst baking under the sun. The beach was quiet. The Taiwanese don't like the sun and this particular beach is without parasols for hire; which is why I chose it. I lay there all day, periodically applying my factor 48 sun lotion, reading, people watching, listening to the waves and snoozing. I stayed for the sunset and then headed back to the hotel to shower and change.
I awoke in my bed, surprised, for I had not intended to fall asleep. I checked the time. It was 11:30 pm. The other residents of the room had returned and were sleeping. I realized why I had woken up. The whale opposite me was snoring as only an obese American can. It was a deep rattle that I could feel in my stomach. I tried desperately to get back to sleep. An hour went by and, despite my best efforts, I was still awake and angry and furious and I wanted to kill this chocolate cake-eating cunt. Until this point The Black Dog had not shown himself and I presumed he had stayed at home. I considered that he knew it was futile to try and change my mood on this trip. I was determined and surrounded by the delights of nature (and my motorcycle). But then he appeared sitting at the foot of the bed with a smug grin on his black face. His eyes were bright with deviance.
“Nicky, my old friend, thought you'd managed to sneak out without me knowing? Oh Nicky you're such a sweet boy. Now, put your clothes on go and buy a packet of fags and let's go and get pissed at the ladyboy bar. After that we can come back and suffocate this fat prick.” I have to say, on this occasion I agreed with him and so that's what I did.
The ladyboy bar was busy with middle-aged Chinese tourists who had followed a flag to get there. There were a few drunken Taiwanese men and one table of young Taiwanese girls. One of the girls had caught my eye. She was very beautiful and she smoked her cigarettes with the confidence of a much older woman. I myself was three cigarettes down. Quitting smoking would have to wait for another day. My first beer was almost finished as the ladyboys began to appear from the basement. They were not all Taiwanese, some were from China and others from Malaysia. They were not all beautiful, some were fat and some had bad skin. I had seen this show before, many times, it was titillation rather than pornographic. There was always just a hint of genitalia. At the end of the show one lucky member of the audience was picked to stand on the stage against the stripper pole. His dignity was always kept intact as he was stripped almost naked. Underpants would be replaced by a towel, the towel replaced by a hat, the hat replaced by a plate before the towel was eventually returned and the victim was free to find his clothes and dress.
The show began but I was uninterested. My eyes were full with the Taiwanese girl. I watched her fingertips as she held her lighter. They were slender and beautiful. I wanted them in my mouth. I wanted them in me. The beers were filling me with confidence and I knew I would eventually talk to her. If only to have something to fantasise about once I returned home. I wanted to hear her voice. I wondered if she could speak English. I practiced my Chinese in my head in case she could not.
I ordered another beer from the bar. I had not yet consumed quite enough confidence. The girl giggled playfully with her friends. They were mere weeds in a garden where only one flower blossomed.
By now the show was coming to a close. The Malaysian ladyboy wandered around the room attempting to convince one of the Chinese men to accompany her to the stage. They were stubborn and dismissive. The Taiwanese men were the same. I watched with some delight as she pleaded with them. She grabbed at their hands and attempted to coax them with lap dances and flashes of breast. It did not work. Then she saw me. She recognised me. The smoke in the room cleared as she hurried towards me. I made no attempt to pretend I was going to indulge her. I began to stand up before she even reached me. She smiled. She was grateful. Her eyes seemed relieved. I had seen this show before. She took me to the stage and presented me to the crowd. They clapped and cheered. They had hit the vacation jackpot. A white guy on stage. A foreigner. The Chinese woman seemed particularly happy to see me. I looked down at the beautiful girl. She looked away but I caught the hint of a smile as she did.
The ladyboy began to undress me, slowly, at first. My T-shirt was removed first and then my belt. My jeans were around my ankles and my shirt had been thrown into the crowd. She untied my shoelaces and removed my shoes and socks before removing my pants. I stood there under the blinding lights of the stage, holding onto a pole wearing nothing but my underpants and a drunken smile. Suddenly and without warning I got a whiff of my armpits. They smelled terrible and I realised I had neglected to apply deodorant before I left the hostel. I felt a moment of shame before the ladyboy began to rub her half-naked body against mine. I concentrated. An erection at this point would have been difficult to hide. There was some movement in my underpants but I kept it under control.
She produced a towel and began to remove my underpants. She gave flashes of my backside to various tables of people in the room as she moved me around the pole. I was beginning to enjoy myself. No one knew me there. I would never see these people again. Fuck it. My underpants fell to the floor and she threw them on to the table of the beautiful girl. The ladyboy encouraged me to dance while she played with the towel. She revealed quick glimpses of me but never for longer than a second. I danced. She played. Beads of sweat on her breasts shone brightly under the podium lights and I began to stare at them while she twisted and turned around me. I suppose a few minutes passed before I realised I was now fully erect behind the dancing towel.
The show was coming to an end and I tried to grab the towel to hide my excitement but the ladyboy did not want to play that game. She gestured to the beautiful girl to bring back my underpants. The ladyboy held the towel as the girl pulled them up. I was panicking but I knew from experience that there was never full nudity. I was safe. Once the beautiful girl had got past my knees she stopped and stood back. I bent over to pull my underpants up the rest of the way while the ladyboy held the towel. It was almost over. But, of course, it was not over. The ladyboy dropped the towel and revealed my hard penis which was at eye level and only a foot away from the beautiful girl. She let out an almighty scream, covered her eyes and ran back to her table. Her friends laughed uncontrollably as she cowered. I pulled up my underwear and stepped down from the stage to the applause of the room. As I walked around the bar searching for my clothes, my backside was slapped by middle-aged women and my hand shaken by middle-aged men. It was almost a victory lap. I got dressed by my table and sat down. A few moments later free beer began to arrive at my table. The beautiful girl left. I drank all night.
I awoke the next day on my bed. The room was empty but for a pile of my clothes. I stunk of cheap perfume, fags and stale beer. This was not supposed to be how my trip started. This was a trip taken with good intentions. With pure intentions. I was to be freed from the shackles of my addictions and guilt. Instead I lay in bed feeling like suicide was my only option. I put the blanket over my head and went back to sleep.
I awoke a few hours later and showered. I decided to stay in Kentin for one more day and night. I needed to begin again. No beer, no cigarettes, no drugs and certainly no more ladyboys. I ate, took Hemingway to the beach and read under the sun and to the sounds of crashing waves. I got through the day. I went to bed early and awoke the following day early, too. I awoke feeling reborn. Although desperately craving alcohol and nicotine.
Once the Kymco Grand King 125 was packed up, I hit the road and left Kentin for Taidong.
Swearwords: Some strong ones.
Description: The trip was begun with good intentions, but The Black Dog soon put paid to those.
_____________________________________________________________________
As with all adventures I decided to take Hemingway along for the ride. I had considered others, Joyce or Theroux, but they were too complicated or too simple. I needed a reliable man with thick skin. Hemingway was my man. We were about to embark on a one week motorcycle ride around Taiwan; from Kaohsiung and Kentin in the south, through Taidong and Hualien in the east, over the central mountain highway to Taichung in the west and then through the national parks and back to Kaohsiung.
I knew it wasn't going to be the easiest of trips. It was the middle of summer with temperatures in the mid 30's and dangerous UV levels. It only takes a few hours under the sun before human skin begins to resemble glazed pork skin. The cities would be stiflingly hot and sweaty, the coast would be perilously windy and the mountain would be cold with narrow roads. I couldn't wait.
On Sunday morning I woke up around seven, showered, packed my backpack, remembering to include my factor 48 sunscreen, and headed down five flights of stairs to my motorcycle. My Red Kymco Grand King 125. She may not sound like much but to me she represents a freedom that can be found in no other way. I hopped on, started the engine, put on my helmet and sunglasses and set off through the city to Kentin. The first day was to be a short day. Just three hours’ drive south to Taiwan's southernmost point.
The ride to Kentin is always bittersweet. The first one and a half hours are bleak city driving, culminating in a thirty minute drive through the industrial district. There are vast fields and factories pumping out white, yellow and grey gases into the blue sky in a post-apocalyptic scene worthy of any Hollywood movie. However, after passing through here and some other small towns, the road meets the ocean and the mountains for one and a half hours of stunning riding. This is one of my favourite roads in the world. The relief of seeing the bright blue sea and the dense green mountains after riding through the grey blackness of the factories is enough to give hope to the hopeless. Riding on a road where the mountain meets the sea is truly a wonderful experience and Taiwan is full of these roads, which makes it one of the best countries in the world to ride a motorcycle.
I drove through Kaohsiung city in a rush. Well, as much of a rush as one can be in behind an endless line of red lights and slow moving blue trucks. After an hour I hit the chimneys and sighed at their ugliness and then over the bridge and out of the city and into the small towns that snake between Taiwan's major cities. At every red light in these areas the locals point and stare and the children say “momma, look a foreigner”. Westerners don't live in these places so we're still a novelty to all who see our blonde hair, blue eyes and big noses. I stopped briefly at a 7/11 and stocked up on water (and Suntory whiskey). I took a sly drink of the whiskey and rode on. The intense dreariness of Taiwanese roadside towns can easily trick the brain into thinking that you will never reach the coast and the beauty that it brings. Two hours into the trip, depression and impatience was causing a tightness in my chest and I started to think that I should have just stayed at home, got drunk and played guitar. Just as I was about to turn around and head home with my bike between my legs the road opened the buildings became sparse and I began to see the lush green hills appearing from behind the low thin clouds. A broad smile grew across my face and lasted long enough to transform into a joyous laugh as the South China sea presented its self as a carpet of blinding blue water. The road became wider and winding, slicing a pathway between the crashing waves and the still mountain. A greener bluer place is unlikely to exist anywhere on Earth.
As my enthusiasm for life increased so did my speed. I opened up the throttle and overtook buses and cars and scooters and leaned tightly into the bends and at every turn was presented with a new delight. As I began to reach Kentin the roadside became littered with tourist attractions; go-karts, horse riding, water zorbing and theme restaurants decorated with plastic waves from which plastic dolphins leapt. Kentin is a tourist town for both foreign and domestic holidaymakers. It's the only problem with the place. But, if you know how to get off the beaten track, it is also a place for quiet and contemplation.
This trip was not just about going to places; it was as much about running away from places.... and people and beer and cigarettes and drugs and girls. I was on the run and Kentin was the perfect place to start. It's busy enough to get lost in the crowd and quiet enough to feel like you're the only man alive.
I stopped just before I reached Kentin main street and pissed into the bushes before taking another wee drink of the Suntory and then I headed into town in search of the cheapest hotel possible.
I had stayed at small place at the beginning of the street in the past. It was only twelve pounds per night and it was more than comfortable. It had air-conditioning, Wi-Fi, a flat screen TV, overhead shower, double bed with a large eggshell white quilt and it was immaculately clean. I was quite excited to get in and wash the road from my skin and fingernails. I was worried, however, that it might be full. It was peak season.
I shouldn't have worried. I walked into the hotel through the glass automatic doors where the manager or owner was sitting behind her desk. She recognised me and I her and we smiled.
“How are you?” she said. “Long time no see.” She was speaking in Mandarin and I replied. “I'm good. Long time no see. Can I get a room for two nights?” At this point we were speaking with broad grins across our faces. “We have one room left. It's sixty pounds per night,” she said. I was confused. “Last time I was here it was only twelve pounds. I want that room again.” Her face changed quickly and she looked down at some papers on her desk. “There are hostels down the road.” I found out later that the prices are heavily inflated during the summer. I was naive to think otherwise.
I walked out of the hotel dejected and into a clean looking hostel. I took a room without checking it and paid my twelve pounds. The hostel employee spent fifteen minutes explaining the various keys and locks and how they worked before showing me to my room. I use the word room loosely for it was more of a cupboard with four beds. It was so small that it would have been impossible for all four occupants of the room to stand up at the same time in the space that was not taken up by the bunk beds. And it was a shared bathroom. And the beds were tiny and hard. Despite my disappointment the hostel was very clean and the staff friendly. I showered and headed out onto the main street to find food but definitely not beer.
I sipped on the whiskey as I pushed my way through the crowds of tourists who were loitering around the food stalls that lined the street selling fruit, squid, pork knuckle, crickets, Korean chicken and anything else Asian one could imagine. I had discovered on my previous trips to Kentin that the food was, in the main, bad. But I was on a mission to find the stinky tofu lady. Stinky tofu is fermented tofu usually served in sauce made from soy sauce, vinegar, coriander, chili and garlic. To the western nose it smells disgusting but that taste is heavenly. I found her at the top of the street and bought two portions before heading back to the hotel to eat them under a blanket of air conditioning. It was delicious.
After I ate I took Hemingway to the beach. I set up home by a washed-up tree trunk, took off my shirt and read whilst baking under the sun. The beach was quiet. The Taiwanese don't like the sun and this particular beach is without parasols for hire; which is why I chose it. I lay there all day, periodically applying my factor 48 sun lotion, reading, people watching, listening to the waves and snoozing. I stayed for the sunset and then headed back to the hotel to shower and change.
I awoke in my bed, surprised, for I had not intended to fall asleep. I checked the time. It was 11:30 pm. The other residents of the room had returned and were sleeping. I realized why I had woken up. The whale opposite me was snoring as only an obese American can. It was a deep rattle that I could feel in my stomach. I tried desperately to get back to sleep. An hour went by and, despite my best efforts, I was still awake and angry and furious and I wanted to kill this chocolate cake-eating cunt. Until this point The Black Dog had not shown himself and I presumed he had stayed at home. I considered that he knew it was futile to try and change my mood on this trip. I was determined and surrounded by the delights of nature (and my motorcycle). But then he appeared sitting at the foot of the bed with a smug grin on his black face. His eyes were bright with deviance.
“Nicky, my old friend, thought you'd managed to sneak out without me knowing? Oh Nicky you're such a sweet boy. Now, put your clothes on go and buy a packet of fags and let's go and get pissed at the ladyboy bar. After that we can come back and suffocate this fat prick.” I have to say, on this occasion I agreed with him and so that's what I did.
The ladyboy bar was busy with middle-aged Chinese tourists who had followed a flag to get there. There were a few drunken Taiwanese men and one table of young Taiwanese girls. One of the girls had caught my eye. She was very beautiful and she smoked her cigarettes with the confidence of a much older woman. I myself was three cigarettes down. Quitting smoking would have to wait for another day. My first beer was almost finished as the ladyboys began to appear from the basement. They were not all Taiwanese, some were from China and others from Malaysia. They were not all beautiful, some were fat and some had bad skin. I had seen this show before, many times, it was titillation rather than pornographic. There was always just a hint of genitalia. At the end of the show one lucky member of the audience was picked to stand on the stage against the stripper pole. His dignity was always kept intact as he was stripped almost naked. Underpants would be replaced by a towel, the towel replaced by a hat, the hat replaced by a plate before the towel was eventually returned and the victim was free to find his clothes and dress.
The show began but I was uninterested. My eyes were full with the Taiwanese girl. I watched her fingertips as she held her lighter. They were slender and beautiful. I wanted them in my mouth. I wanted them in me. The beers were filling me with confidence and I knew I would eventually talk to her. If only to have something to fantasise about once I returned home. I wanted to hear her voice. I wondered if she could speak English. I practiced my Chinese in my head in case she could not.
I ordered another beer from the bar. I had not yet consumed quite enough confidence. The girl giggled playfully with her friends. They were mere weeds in a garden where only one flower blossomed.
By now the show was coming to a close. The Malaysian ladyboy wandered around the room attempting to convince one of the Chinese men to accompany her to the stage. They were stubborn and dismissive. The Taiwanese men were the same. I watched with some delight as she pleaded with them. She grabbed at their hands and attempted to coax them with lap dances and flashes of breast. It did not work. Then she saw me. She recognised me. The smoke in the room cleared as she hurried towards me. I made no attempt to pretend I was going to indulge her. I began to stand up before she even reached me. She smiled. She was grateful. Her eyes seemed relieved. I had seen this show before. She took me to the stage and presented me to the crowd. They clapped and cheered. They had hit the vacation jackpot. A white guy on stage. A foreigner. The Chinese woman seemed particularly happy to see me. I looked down at the beautiful girl. She looked away but I caught the hint of a smile as she did.
The ladyboy began to undress me, slowly, at first. My T-shirt was removed first and then my belt. My jeans were around my ankles and my shirt had been thrown into the crowd. She untied my shoelaces and removed my shoes and socks before removing my pants. I stood there under the blinding lights of the stage, holding onto a pole wearing nothing but my underpants and a drunken smile. Suddenly and without warning I got a whiff of my armpits. They smelled terrible and I realised I had neglected to apply deodorant before I left the hostel. I felt a moment of shame before the ladyboy began to rub her half-naked body against mine. I concentrated. An erection at this point would have been difficult to hide. There was some movement in my underpants but I kept it under control.
She produced a towel and began to remove my underpants. She gave flashes of my backside to various tables of people in the room as she moved me around the pole. I was beginning to enjoy myself. No one knew me there. I would never see these people again. Fuck it. My underpants fell to the floor and she threw them on to the table of the beautiful girl. The ladyboy encouraged me to dance while she played with the towel. She revealed quick glimpses of me but never for longer than a second. I danced. She played. Beads of sweat on her breasts shone brightly under the podium lights and I began to stare at them while she twisted and turned around me. I suppose a few minutes passed before I realised I was now fully erect behind the dancing towel.
The show was coming to an end and I tried to grab the towel to hide my excitement but the ladyboy did not want to play that game. She gestured to the beautiful girl to bring back my underpants. The ladyboy held the towel as the girl pulled them up. I was panicking but I knew from experience that there was never full nudity. I was safe. Once the beautiful girl had got past my knees she stopped and stood back. I bent over to pull my underpants up the rest of the way while the ladyboy held the towel. It was almost over. But, of course, it was not over. The ladyboy dropped the towel and revealed my hard penis which was at eye level and only a foot away from the beautiful girl. She let out an almighty scream, covered her eyes and ran back to her table. Her friends laughed uncontrollably as she cowered. I pulled up my underwear and stepped down from the stage to the applause of the room. As I walked around the bar searching for my clothes, my backside was slapped by middle-aged women and my hand shaken by middle-aged men. It was almost a victory lap. I got dressed by my table and sat down. A few moments later free beer began to arrive at my table. The beautiful girl left. I drank all night.
I awoke the next day on my bed. The room was empty but for a pile of my clothes. I stunk of cheap perfume, fags and stale beer. This was not supposed to be how my trip started. This was a trip taken with good intentions. With pure intentions. I was to be freed from the shackles of my addictions and guilt. Instead I lay in bed feeling like suicide was my only option. I put the blanket over my head and went back to sleep.
I awoke a few hours later and showered. I decided to stay in Kentin for one more day and night. I needed to begin again. No beer, no cigarettes, no drugs and certainly no more ladyboys. I ate, took Hemingway to the beach and read under the sun and to the sounds of crashing waves. I got through the day. I went to bed early and awoke the following day early, too. I awoke feeling reborn. Although desperately craving alcohol and nicotine.
Once the Kymco Grand King 125 was packed up, I hit the road and left Kentin for Taidong.
About the Author
Originally from South Shields, Lee Carrick is a thirtysomething adopted Scot. His biggest passions in life are writing and travelling, and he likes to combine the two. He has been writing poetry since he was 15, but only recently began to write fiction. He was inspired to write by Ian Banks' The Wasp Factory and Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors. The Care Home, his first novella, is a McStorytellers publication.
Lee’s full profile can be read on McVoices.
Lee’s full profile can be read on McVoices.