I know they won't understand, but I'm running out of options. The bike's stopped in the middle of the road, leaning hard to the left. I can stop it going over - for now - but I can't straighten it up. On the front, Lyn's doing no better.
The locals see the problem and cross the road to give us a shove. We're rolling again. It's a silly end to an exceptional ride. We'd picked up the Baja 250 trail bike in Vientiane that morning. Even with the suspension adjusted, it's far too big for us, but it was the only one available. I can ride it quickly, but I can't ride it slowly, and that's the opposite of how I'd like it.
Getting on to or off the bike, or even putting it on the sidestand, is a two-man effort. So we rode to Vang Vieng - 172km of narrow tarmac that we shared with goats, chickens, school children on bicycles and the occasional beer truck - with only one stop. Apart from the shiny Land Rovers that burnt past us like American bombers, we were the fastest thing on the road.