Old Roads, Old Friends

I moved to Thailand in 2013. It didn’t take long to get my first bike. Out here, a bike isn’t a weekend toy. It’s how you live and how you escape.

Early on, I fell in with a good group of friends. One of them was Garrett. We landed in Thailand around the same time. Both of us rode. That was enough.

Some of my first real Thai road trips were with that crew. Day runs to wherever we could reach from Bangkok and back. Evening rides into the city, night market food, last-minute concerts, no real plan. Nothing planned, everything memorable.

One of my first bike trips in Thailand back in 2013 Garrett in the back and our friend Jason up front with me.

Those early days hit different. Every ride was a sensory overload. New roads, new smells, new everything. Even the familiar routes felt like a first time.

That was over a decade ago.

Life moves on. People shift. Of that original group, Garrett and I are the only two still here. Still riding. We’d been talking about getting a ride in together for about a year. Something always got in the way.

I had some design updates to run on the Dante. The only honest way to test a boot is to throw it into something real. That meant a asphalt and dirt.

I pinged Garrett. He was in. Immediately.

We set the date. When it came, we met before dawn. Bangkok still sleeping behind us. The Myanmar border somewhere ahead in the dark, patient and waiting.

That western stretch doesn’t forgive bad gear. Twisted asphalt gives way to surprise dirt tracks. Short, steep hikes that show you fast whether a boot is built right or just looks the part.

From the second we linked up, it felt like no time had passed. Ten years. Didn’t feel like it. Some friendships keep their shape no matter how long they sit on the shelf.

A few hours in, we pulled off for coffee. We did a lot of catching up over those cups. Turns out, a lot can happen in a decade. We’d stayed in touch, messages and the occasional meme. But there’s something a screen will never replicate. Sitting across from someone. Laughing at the same thing, at the same time. That kind of moment doesn’t compress into a notification.

We ended up in Ban Phu Nam Ron, a village in Kanchanaburi the jungle is slowly reclaiming. Some roads out there are dialed in. Others are returning to the earth. That tension is the whole point.

Garrett and I at the Ban Phu Nam Ron Checkpoint on the Myanmar Boarder

We went off-road where we could. Dirt under the tires, wheels sliding, no agenda. Near a border checkpoint we found what looked like an abandoned development, concrete half-swallowed by vines. A well-worn trail cut out the back. We followed it along the border fence. The kind of riding that doesn’t need a destination to mean something.

Then it was time for Lunch. Fuel. One last good conversation before the long push back to Bangkok.

We hit the western edge of the city just as the sky cracked open. Lightning. Thunder you could feel in your chest. The road flooded fast so we ducked into a 7-Eleven, grabbed cold drinks, and let the storm do its thing.

Fifteen minutes. The rain quit. The road cleared. The city exhaled.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. But not before locking in plans to do it again.

Some things are worth making time for. Old roads. Good boots. Friends who ride the same way you do are certainty on that list.