October 2023 – The ExhaustNotes Blog

Bangkok Part 5: The Jim Thompson House and Museum

By Joe Berk

Today was another exciting day, and we visited another one of Bangkok’s best kept secrets. Sue and I took a tuk tuk ride to the train station and we made our way on Bangkok’s elevated inner city railway system to our destination du jour: The Jim Thompson House and Museum, located inside the city along a remote canal. Tucked away, you might say. And that’s entirely appropriate. Read on and you’ll understand why.

The view from the passenger compartment.

Getting around on Bangkok’s elevated railway was surprisingly easy. And that’s Mo Chit.

The destination of our tuk tuk and train travel was the aforementioned Jim Thompson House and Museum. You might wonder: Who was Jim Thompson?

Jim Thompson, before he disappeared in the jungle forever.

Okay, here goes, and when I’m done giving you the Reader’s Digest version of this amazing tale, you tell me if isn’t something that might be the story line of the next Indiana Jones or James Bond adventure.

Jim Thompson was a young east coast guy born into wealth who went to Princeton University and became an architect. He joined the Army just prior to World War II, he jumped out of airplanes while he was in the Army (I like this guy already), and he ended up in the Office of Strategic Services during the war (the OSS was the forerunner of the CIA). Toward the end of the war, Thompson was stationed in Thailand where he found interesting and previously unknown (unknown outside of Thailand, that is) artisans doing amazing things with silk. To make a long story a little less long, Thompson is the man who made Thai silk famous. Seriously. He designed silk clothing for royalty, elites all over the world, and folks in Hollywood (including the costumes used in the movie, The King and I).

Along the way and with his background as an architect, Mr. Thompson starting collecting classic Thai teak homes and Asian artifacts (like I said above, the guy had money). He built a compound comprised of six teak homes he moved from ancient Thai cities to Bangkok, and there he built a compound that he made his home. The big photo at the top of this blog is part of it. It’s in Bangkok now, but when Thompson built it, it was well outside the city. Bangkok expanded around it.

Then, to make this story even more interesting, in 1967 Jim Thompson disappeared in the Malaysian jungle without a trace. I know, it sounds like a story line from a movie or one of those adventure novels you buy in an airport bookstore, but folks, no one can make up stuff this good. A former US Army paratrooper/OSS officer/CIA agent turned wealthy silk magnate, complete with an ancient Thai compound on a canal in Bangkok who goes missing deep in the jungles of Malaysia. What was it? A tiger attack? An assassination when former enemies finally caught up with him? Or something else? No one knows. At least, no one who’s talking.

With that as the backdrop, here are a few more photos of the Jim Thompson House and Museum.

One of the exterior shots. The really good stuff was inside. I thought about trying to sneak a few photos, but then I remembered Thompson’s background and thought better of it.

Our guide, in an area where photos were allowed.

One last photo inside the Jim Thompson compound.

This was an amazing visit. I would have liked to have taken more photos of the inside of the home and the amazing ancient Thai artifacts it held, but as I mentioned above, no photography was allowed inside. You’ll just have to take my word for it. This is one amazing place and one amazing story. If you ever find yourself in Bangkok, seek out the Jim Thompson House and Museum. Most people have never heard of it. It’s one of the more fascinating places I’ve ever visited.

I took one more photo that day as Sue and I walked back to the train station. It was a convex mirror at a tight street intersection, you know, the kind that lets drivers approaching from either way see what’s around the corner. It called out for a selfie, and we answered that call.

Trust me on this: If you ever find yourself in Bangkok, the Jim Thompson House is a place that has to be on your “must see” list.

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Digital Nomad: Victoria, British Columbia

By Mike Huber

Landing back in Boston mid-November, the only thing perfect was the weather. Perfect for hypothermia, that is. It didn’t take long in the cold and damp environment for me to realize that this would not be a suitable location for winter, especially after having been in tropical climates for the past 8 months. Although the decision to not stay was an easy one, where to actually move opened up an entirely new set of questions. This part of the journey I had not planned for very well, or at all. Well…time to pull out some maps and just as I had done in South America find a solution to the problem I now faced: Where would be my new home?

I wasn’t a big fan of the southeastern states and hadn’t really explored many of the western ones. Since the gray damp weather wasn’t something I wanted to deal with deciding to choose the Pacific Northwest probably wasn’t one of my better ideas, but I knew it wouldn’t be as cold in that area. I was still feeling the culture shock of returning to the United States and after living in South America, the busy stressful vibe of the United States wasn’t tolerable.

Having narrowed the region down, the next step was to pinpoint a spot. Looking at maps I noticed a rather large land mass not too far off of the coast of Seattle and Vancouver. It was Vancouver Island, and the capital of British Columbia, Victoria, was there. This seemed like a perfect place to call home until I could find a better location.

After a quick and uneventful drive cross country I was at the ferry terminal in Port Angeles, Washington, about to embark on another out-of-country adventure. As soon as the Blackball ferry pulled into Victoria Harbor I knew this would be a fun place. The Inner Harbour had a number of float planes landing and taking off, the Victoria Clipper (a high-speed catamaran) was there, and tugboat-like water taxis buzzed around the much larger Blackball ferry like mosquitos around an elephant. The entire inner harbor was just so alive.

Upon disembarking from the ferry there was a bit of a wait going through Canadian Customs where they scanned my passport and I confidently assured them I was visiting only for a week. In all honestly, I really didn’t have much of an idea about the length of my visit, as my planning (much like today) is almost nonexistent. The next step was to find a place to stay for a week or so until I could get my bearings and determine if I wanted to stay here longer. Having just driven over 3,000 miles I wasn’t in much of a rush to leave.

It didn’t take too long for me to find a cool hotel that allowed for longer stays near the center of town. The hotel was a great selling point, not only for the location, but also because it had what was probably the best Chinese restaurant ever. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the best dive bar attached to the hotel. Even with the rainy weather that lowered my morale, the restaurant and the bar gave refuge and let me refill my endorphins. This place would do nicely.

One of the best ways I’ve found to learn a new city is to go for long runs, get lost, and then learn the area. Frequently during these runs I would find someone running the same pace and strike up a conversation. This happened on one of my first days in Victoria. I kept pace with a man a few years older than me, and as our conversation continued I jokingly explained I was here working remotely, possibly quite illegally, and we both had a good laugh. Our finishing point was just after we crossed a bridge, when I introduced myself and he did the same. “Nice to meet you, Mike,” he said. “I’m Dean, the Mayor of Victoria, but you can call me Mayor Dean.” He handed me a business card and invited me to visit his office if I needed anything. My jaw was on the ground. I expected Canadian Mounties or Immigration to jump from around the corner. This, of course, didn’t happen (it was Canada and they are super-warm people, even to illegal visitors like me).

Despite the weather being a bit gray (which is to be expected in December in the Pacific Northwest), this island was a great choice. Within two weeks it was obvious this was to be my home at least through the winter months (unless Mayor Dean disapproved). It was time to find a longer-term rental on a month-to-month lease. A month-to-month lease was quite a commitment for me (even more so since I probably wasn’t allowed to be in Canada for more than 90 days per their immigration laws), but that would be a problem for future Mike to deal with (which he did successfully several times). It was now time to start exploring my new home and see what there was to offer this American traveler and digital nomad.

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Police Business: IACP 2023

By Joe Berk

The International Association of Chiefs of Police…it’s an organization most folks have never heard of, but it’s been around for 130 years. My good buddy Mike is a member and he invited me along as his guest to the 2023 IACP convention (Mike and I have known each other since the 7th grade, and that means we’ve been friends for more than 60 years). It’s the third or fourth time I’ve attended the IACP show, and it’s always great. The IACP convention was in San Diego this year, and any time I have an opportunity to visit that beautiful town, I’m in. Susie and I rolled south in the Subie; Mike had already flown in. All kinds of companies have exhibits at the IACP convention, and many federal and state law enforcement agencies have displays. The United States Secret Service was there and they had one of the presidential limos on display. The photo at the top of this blog is yours truly reflected in the presidential limo’s deep black paint.

So who exhibits at the IACP? All kinds of government organizations and all kinds of businesses. Many of the exhibitors were software companies (including Microsoft) specializing in data base and other police applications. There were several outfits advertising armor plating for people, automobiles, war wagons, and more.

Body armor in your choice of colors. I’d wear it, but it would make me look fat.

Impressive. Bullet proof glass may become an optional accessory for civilians here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia.

Another bullet proof barrier supplier. Check out the photos below.

Here’s another bulletproof barrier company, with several of the cartridges its material can stop displayed.

A close-up photo of one of the cartridges.

The above door interior. None of the bullets made it through.

As you might expect, gun companies also display at the IACP convention. The ones I saw this year included Glock (with the largest display), SIG Sauer, Beretta, and a few different AR manufacturers. Surprisingly, Smith and Wesson wasn’t there (if they were, I missed them), nor was Colt (not many police departments carry Colt handguns these days).

Glock’s booth at the IACP convention. These guys had a lot of visitors. Glocks are popular and they are relatively inexpensive.

The Beretta and SIG booths were quiet. There was a lot of activity at the Glock exhibit. I spent some time at the Glock booth talking to one of their reps, and he was informative when I asked about using cast bullets in a Glock. I’d previously heard that Glock advises against using cast bullets in their pistols, and I asked if that was true. Glocks have barrels with polygonal rifling, and as such, there are no lands and grooves (there are just raised and lowered areas that twist along the barrel’s length). The Glock rep explained to me that they do indeed recommend not using cast bullets, as the lead has nowhere to go when it accumulates in the bore. When the barrels experiencing leading, it constricts the bore, and this raises pressures higher than what would be experienced in a conventionally-rifled pistol barrel. He said if you clean the barrel often enough (so that leading does not accumulate), shooting cast lead bullets would probably be okay, but how many shots can be fired before this becomes a problem is too dicey a proposition for Glock to provide a number. I also asked about copper plated (as opposed to jacketed) bullets, and the Glock rep told me that they advise against using those as well. To me, it’s not a big deal, as I don’t own a Glock, I always clean my guns, and virtually every firearm manufacturer advises against shooting reloaded ammo anyway. Eh, what do they know? The only time I ever shoot factory (i.e., non-reloaded) ammo in my handguns is when I have to requalify for my concealed carry permit.

Glock pistols. I don’t follow Glock, so I don’t know what their different models are. The red and the blue guns are training guns.

SIG Sauer’s 226 X-5. This is an impressive handgun.

I saw the new SIG target model (the 226 X5) and I fell in love with it. Unfortunately, the X5 is not available to us here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia (it’s not on the California Department of Justice roster of approved handguns). The SIG X5 is expensive at $2219, but I’d buy one in a heartbeat if it was sold here. It fits like my hand like a glove and the trigger is superb. The grips are nice, too. The X5 has all steel construction, so it’s heavier than the standard 226 (which has an aluminum frame). I sure wish it was available here. On the plus side, SIG’s M18 is now available in California. It’s the Army’s new sidearm. It has a striker firing mechanism (there’s no hammer), so the trigger pull is not what I would call good (as is the case, in my opinion, with all striker-fired handguns). The M18 is about $700 and I am tempted. I like SIG handguns.

There were taser manufacturers and firearms training simulator manufacturers at IACP, too. The photos below show a taser virtual reality simulator. You wear a headset that covers your eyes and hold a taser gun. I think the company was Axon. They had about 20 stations for people to try it. The rep explained that you have to fire twice…once in a noncritical area and then again in another non-critical area. When you do that on the simulated bad guy in the virtual reality headset, the bad guy goes down. Sometimes you have to fire more than two times because your suspected felon doesn’t cooperate and keel over immediately. You get about 15 runs against assorted bad guys, and I toasted every one of them. Then there’s an officer needs assistance call where you roll up on a police officer having difficulty subduing a bad guy. I fried that bad guy, too. It was fun.

Virtual reality and a taser. It was awesome.

Another company, Sim Lab, had a target gallery with moving silhouette targets and your choice of either a SIG or a Glock (I went with the SIG). I did pretty good on that one, too, and after I had toasted their bad guys the Sim Lab rep said I was a good shot. That made this IACP convention one of the best ever for me.

The Sim Lab setup. I opted for the SIG M18. I may get a real M18 one of these days.

After I shot the Sim Lab course, the rep asked if I wanted a video. Hey, does a man in the desert want water? Does a California resident want gas prices below $5 a gallon. “You bet,” I answered, and I fired the course again. It was fun. (Pro Tip: The video looks better if you expand it to full screen.)

There were a couple of first aid equipment manufacturers at IACP 2023, and the exhibits were surprisingly lifelike. And gruesome. You couldn’t walk by their exhibits without looking (and taking a photo or two).

This young lady is having a bad day. She lost a leg, she lost a hand, and someone slit her throat.

There were several vehicles on display. One was the Riverside County Sheriff’s command center. It was awesome. There were also armored vehicles. They were really cool. And there were police motorcycles.

The Riverside County Sheriff’s Mobile Command Post. It is impressive.

An armored vehicle with a battering ram. Check out the gun port on the right door.

Good buddy Mike peeking through the gunport.

Harley and BMW were the only two police motorcycle suppliers in attendance (which is probably fitting, as they are the only two gasoline-powered motorcycle manufacturers selling to US police departments). Mike and I both sat on the Harley. Its weight (840 pounds) could only be described as oppressive. I guess I’ve grown weaker in my old age. I could barely get the thing off the side stand. I’ve owned a couple of Harley full dressers. No more, though. For a lot of reasons, my Harley days are in the rearview mirror.

Mike on the police Harley. We both agreed: It’s a porker.

The Kawasaki KZ1000P, an iconic police motor if ever there was one, went out of production at least 20 years ago. But there was a pristine one on display. It was in a booth advertising communications equipment, and that company used it to showcase the early police comm equipment they used to manufacture. The Kawasaki (although it was 20 years old) was immaculate, as it should be. The odometer showed only 5 miles. Mike and I were both impressed. I would like to own this bike.

Yours truly with the no-longer-manufactured KZ1000P Kawasaki.

The real deal, with just 5.3 miles on the odometer.

There was a company displaying an artistic Lucite arrangement lit up. It was interesting. I can’t remember who the company was, so I guessed it bombed as an advertisement, but it was cool. In the photo below, it shows Federal Signal. I’m not sure what they do. But if I ever needed a Lucite car bit of artwork, they would be my guys.

The United States Secret Service had what was probably the most interesting exhibit. It was one of the President’s Chevy Suburbans, complete with the presidential insignia and flag. I sat in the rear seat. There were real Secret Service agents there and they were nice guys. We joked with them a bit about taking care of Old Joe, because we sure didn’t want Kamala in the White House. They tried not to laugh, but I sensed strong agreement.

Hail to the Chief! The window glass on this SUV is at least an inch thick.

Boston Dynamics was there with a couple of their robotic dogs. You might have heard of Boston Dynamics. They were featured on 60 Minutes (the television show) a couple of years ago. The robotic dogs were cool. There was a real police dog there, too. It was not sure what to make of the robots.

One of the exhibits had a large table full of counterfeit $100 bill bundles. This was another cool exhibit that I have no idea what they were selling. But it was cool and it made for a couple of cool photos.

Money money money. I’m not sure what these guys were selling.

Thumbing through a stack of hundred dollar bills.

One of the great things about these kinds of conventions are the goodies. Many of the exhibitors had bags (mine was from Blauer), and nearly all the booths had goodies. I was a grownup playing trick or treat, and I didn’t even need to wear a costume. Ordinarily, I don’t pick up much in the way of goodies at trade shows, but I have four grandchildren now and I was scooping it all up for them. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking with it. I will tell you I won’t need to buy another pen for probably another 50 years.

The goodies bag. It was heavy by the end of the day. The grandkids will be pleased.

Mike and I had a super time wandering around in the IACP convention. So much so, in fact, that we reached the end of the day without eating lunch (and for me, that’s unusual). That was okay, because it made us look forward to dinner as we left the convention. As always, the dining in San Diego was superior. Whenever Sue and I visit another city, we don’t go to the touristy restaurants; we always search for the local favorites (and Sue does a stellar job in finding these). Valero’s got the nod our first night in town; it’s a small, family run Italian restaurant, and it was excellent. I had eggplant parmigiana, Sue had angel hair pasta with pesto sauce and mushrooms, and Mike had the pasta puttanesco. I’d never heard of that last one and when Mike translated the name to English I didn’t believe him initially, but he was right. I’ll have to try that one on our next visit. And there will be a next visit. Valero’s was outstanding.

Eggplant parmigiana that tasted as good as it looks.

Angel hair with pesto sauce and mushrooms. It was awesome, too.

Pasta puttanesca. It’s on the list for the next visit. Mike enjoyed it.

Our second night in town brought us to the Havana Grill, a Cuban restaurant not far from Old Town San Diego. It, too, was a local favorite and it was excellent.

Picadillo, which is beef seasoned with onions, peppers, garlic, olives, and raisins. I had it for dinner and it was fantastic.

So there you have it: A great visit with good buddy Mike, a super time at the International Association of Chiefs of Police Convention, and a great couple of days in San Diego.

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Bangkok Part 4: The floating market, good eats, and good friends

By Joe Berk

It was to be a busy day in Thailand starting with a long ride south out of Bangkok to the famous floating market, an awesome shrimp lunch after that visit, then back to Bangkok, and then dinner at a fabulous Italian restaurant with a couple of good friends (I know people everywhere). Imagine that: Italian food in Bangkok (and it was good, too).

About the floating market near Bangkok: I’d first sort of heard of it way back in the early 1970s when I saw a James Bond movie and its chase scenes with those narrow Thai boats. The Bond flick was The Man With The Golden Gun (if you’re reading this blog, my guess is you’ve seen all the Bond movies). The movie showed the boats in Bangkok, not the floating market, but it planted a seed 50 years ago and I when I heard about the floating market on this visit, I wanted to see it. Here’s that scene I remembered showing James Bond doing his secret agent stuff (with an appearance by Sheriff J.W. Pepper, ably played by the late Clifton James) on Bangkok’s waterways:

The floating market is about 100 miles south of Bangkok. The concept is that there are shops on the canals in the delta where the Chao Phraya River meets the sea. The idea is you are on these long narrow boats and you float along, visiting shops. In some places the vendors paddle out to visit you. Every turn in the floating market was a photo op, and for me, the photo ops were the best part of our visit. I took close to 400 photos in the space of a couple of hours. All were with my D3300 Nikon and its 18-55mm kit lens. That combo is a stellar travel photography approach. The 18-55mm lens is not as sharp as a good prime lens, but it does a good job and it is versatile.

A typical scene in the floating market. It was very tranquil. In some places, it was also very crowded.

Need a python? I have one. You can read about it here.

Imitation, the sincerest form of flattery. Here, this young lady is imitating me photographing her.

Some animals do, too. If you’re wondering what this guy is…it’s a pygmy slow loris, rare primates that live in bamboo forests in Southeast Asia. They look friendly.

On the way back to Bangkok, our driver took us to a nondescript restaurant that didn’t look like much from the outside, but our driver knew where the good spots were. We had shrimp fried rice for lunch, and it was delicious. The freshness, the aroma, the taste…it was marvelous. It was easily the best shrimp plate I’d ever had, and I’ve had some good ones. I’m not supposed to eat rice and I’m not supposed to eat shrimp, but I’m glad I broke the rules for this meal.

A hidden gem…a Thai shrimp plate. I knew when I was enjoying it I’d probably never find this restaurant again. Maybe that added to the experience.

We returned to downtown Bangkok and I wandered around grabbing a few more photos. I promised something related to motorcycles in every Bangkok blog. Promises made; promises kept:

The Bangkok Moto GP. It’s at the head of every traffic line at every traffic stop.

Our plans for that evening included having dinner with our good friends Kevin and Nan at Rosseno’s Italian Cucina. It was another five-star dining experience, a world-class Italian restaurant in the middle of downtown Bangkok. It was only a couple of blocks from our hotel, so Sue and I walked there.

Rosseno’s Italian Cucina. It was superb. I had lasagna.

From left to right, it’s Nan, Kevin, Susie, and me.

During dinner, it started raining. After dinner it was pouring. It does that a lot in Bangkok. Kevin and Nan had arrived on one of Kevin’s motorcycles. I would have been concerned about the rain, but as folks who live in Bangkok, Kevin and Nan were not. To them it was no big deal.

Nan put on her rain gear (Kevin did not) and they rode off into Bangkok traffic.

Bangkok is one of the world’s great cities. It’s about the size of New York, and like most major cities in the world, it pretty much has everything you can imagine (including great Italian food).

Tomorrow’s adventure is going to be another Bangkok hidden treasure: The Jim Thompson house. Stay tuned. You’ll enjoy it.

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Bangkok Part 3: Soi Cowboy

By Joe Berk

Another day, another Bangkok blog, and another famous Thai locale…Soi Cowboy. Soi means street in Thai, so Soi Cowboy is Cowboy Street. It played a role in the movie Hangover II. It’s amazing how many famous spots there are in this amazing town. The guys in orange vests you see in the big photo above are motorcycle taxi dudes. They take folks (mostly women) around Bangkok on the back of their bikes carving paths through traffic as if it wasn’t there. It’s an amazing thing to see.

Soi Cowboy is a street that is pretty dead during the day. When the sun sets, though, Soi Cowboy comes alive. There are street vendors selling food from their carts. The clubs come to life. And the B-girls start doing their thing. As an older married guy, it all seems pretty silly. Sue was mortified. But it is what it is, and I’m going to show you just a little bit of it here.

One of the many food carts on the street in front of the clubs on Soi Cowboy.

Another food cart. I had the Nikon on its “auto ISO” setting, which basically means it runs the ISO up as high as it thinks it needs to be to get a good shot. Some of these photos were at ISO 12,800.

More Thai food. I didn’t work up enough courage to try eating off these street vendors, but I’ll bet the food was good.

The clubs are bars with entertainment. Most of the entertainers are young Thai women. Most of the entertainees are older western guys. It’s pretty sad, actually, and I imagine it’s a pretty rough life for the girls.

A snap shot in front of one of the clubs.

As always, motorcycles and motor scooters were everywhere.

Bikes lined up just off Soi Cowboy last night.

And finally, a look down Asoke (that’s the street name) from a pedestrian overpass.

So that’s it for this post from Thailand. Watch for scenes from the floating market tomorrow.

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Bangkok Part 2: The Wat Pho Temple

By Joe Berk

On our next day in Bangkok, Sue and I visited the Wat Pho Buddhist Temple. There are numerous Buddhist temples in this fine city, and on this (my third trip to Bangkok), the nod went to Wat Pho. The colors and the views were stunning, and my 8mm inexpensive Rokinon wide angle manual everything lens earned its pay yet again. I think it would be hard to find a Buddhist temple in Bangkok that was not impressive.

Wat Pho is one of Bangkok’s oldest temples, and it is one of six temples considered to be of the highest grade Buddhist temples in Bangkok. It is a royal temple.

Wat Pho has the famous reclining Buddha, which is 15 meters high and 46 meters long. It is one of the largest statues of Buddha in Thailand.

Colors abound at Wat Pho. It is a photographer’s delight.

A colorful tapestry inside the Wat Pho temple.

We later walked around town a bit, including a visit to the infamous Soi Cowboy area (it’s right around the corner from our hotel). I will post a few evening Soi Cowboy photos in a later blog.

Thailand is two-wheeler territory. Motorcycles and scooters are everywhere. There’s more to come on this topic, so stay tuned.

I said I would try to get something motorcycle-related in each of these blogs, and here’s the photo for this one: A Sukhumvit Street stoplight at night, with all the motorcycles and scooters filtered to the head of the line.

Later, folks. Ride safe.

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Bangkok Part 1: Good morning, Thailand!

By Joe Berk

In October of 2017, Susie and I visited Bangkok. I had a gig in Singapore and we opted to swing by Thailand on the way home. It was an awesome visit and I had a lot of fun taking pictures of Bangkok motorcycles, Thai women, a few Thai guys, food, and more. I thought I would rerun that series (with a few updates) for you here on the ExNotes blog. In as many of these posts as I can, I’ll tell you about the motorcycling scene in Bangkok, too.

Our first morning in Thailand! Sue and I were up with the sun and we walked around the block to get a few photos after a great breakfast in the Grand Pullman Hotel.

Sunrise in Bangkok. When it comes to smog, Bangkok is what California used to be.

The evening before was fun. We arrived at the hotel late at night, and because we had opted to stay on the executive floor, the hotel staff rolled out the red carpet for us. When we went to the check in counter and told the staff our names, they whisked us up to the top floor, brought us into the executive lounge, poured us each a glass of wine, put several kinds of appetizers in front of us, and seated on us on a comfortable sofa. Two young Thais basically interviewed Sue and me, they disappeared for a moment, and then they reappeared with our room keys. It was a pretty cool experience, and it was unlike any hotel check-in we’ve ever had.

That morning we walked around a bit taking in one of the world’s busiest streets in one of the world’s most exotic cities. The number of motorcycles on every street had our attention immediately. Something we had not seen before anywhere else in the world were the motorcycle and motorscooter taxis. People used motorcycles and scooters for taxi duty, as you will see in a few of the photos below.

A Thai motorcycle taxi rider waiting for a fare. Motorcycles are commonly used as taxis in Thailand.

Another Thai taxi, this time a rider on a scooter. The orange vests signify that these bikes are for hire. You have to be a daring person, I think, to hail a ride on the back of the Thai two-wheeler.

A Thai family on a scooter. And a few other scooters, all waiting at a traffic light on Sukhumvit Road, the main road through Bangkok.

The ubiquitous Honda CG clone engine. These power motorcycles made all over Asia. They are probably one of the more reliable engines ever made.

ATGATT: All the gear, all the time. Well, some of the gear. Maybe some of the time. Can you imagine what the emergency ward in any Bangkok hospital must look like?

Street food, Bangkok style. Thai food was surprisingly good. But we weren’t risk takers…we only ate in restaurants.

The fun was just beginning. I’ve been pretty lucky all of my life and my work has carried me to some pretty exotic locales. I’ve seen a lot of the world and most of it has been on someone else’s dime. That’s what this Thailand adventure was. A client brought me to Singapore to teach a failure analysis course to a group of their defense ministry engineers (I wrote a book about failure analysis a couple of decades ago and it’s been providing adventures like this ever since). The heavy lift on this trip was the airfare to Singapore (which the client covered); swinging by Bangkok and stopping off there on the way home only cost a bit more. It’s a great way to travel. I had my trusty Nikon D3300 with me (I love that camera), and I put it to good use on this trip.

I think I’m going to run this Bangkok series every day starting today and for the next six days to maintain the story’s continuity (there will be seven Bangkok posts in total). If it’s too much, hey, just check back in when it’s convenient for you.

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Becoming Vulcan Part 1: The Vevor 130

By Joe Gresh

I first started welding when I was around 12 years old. My Pop gave me a few tips and handed me an oxy-acetylene torch. He showed me how to set the mixture with a haze of blue slightly beyond the core blue flame. He told me the filler rod is used to cool the puddle, not to melt into the gap. And he told me to keep moving when laying down a bead or you’ll burn through. With these simple lessons I never learned another thing about welding. When I worked at SWATH Ocean building aluminum boats I did a bit of MIG and TIG welding as needed for my electrical work. I could make a passible bead but I never knew why or how it worked.

At SWATH the real welders would set up the machines so that even an idiot like me could weld without an understanding of welding. We used giant, high-frequency start, Syncrowave machines that crackled all the telephone lines in a 500-foot radius. Orange colored MIG (metal inert gas) spool guns tied to large power supplies were strategically placed throughout the vessel making it super easy to attach brackets or braces as needed. During working hours the air inside the boats sparkled with aluminum dust and smelled astringent from the inert argon gas. We used to joke that cigarette smokers were the healthiest workers at SWATH because they breathed through a filter.

Over the years I’ve lost the muscle memory for welding and my beads are a jumbled mess. My hands are shaky, my near vision is compromised and I can no longer make presentable welds using any process. I’ve decided to educate myself on welding in general and welding processes that didn’t exist 40 years ago. Thanks to the global economy, welding machines (like most electronic products) have dropped dramatically in price. The advent of the small inverter welder for home use has been a giant leap forward.

I purchased this Vevor 130 multi-process machine from Amazon for only $120, shipping included. The Vevor runs off a standard 115-volt wall receptacle. In the past (where I spend most of my time) a machine with this capability would be ten times the price. The “multi” in multi-process refers to the Vevor’s ability to weld with flux core spooled wire, stick weld or TIG weld. The unit came with all the cables and guns needed for each type of welding process. It did not come with a cart, argon bottle or flow meter. The Vevor is meant for welding steel but there are some stick (also called MMA for Manual Metal Arc) rods available that will weld stainless. You might be able to weld stainless with the Vevor TIG (tungsten inert gas) torch but I haven’t tried it yet.

In stick mode the Vevor is a pretty standard welder like the ones that have been around forever. The old buzz boxes put out alternating current unless you bought an expensive AC/DC box. I had a Miller 225 AC/DC unit that suffered from a lightweight transformer and it was a bitch to strike an arc with the thing. As soon as the stick drew current the voltage would drop and weld the stick to your work. My Pop’s old Lincoln AC welder weighed a ton and I could strike an arc easily with that machine. Hysteresis matters when it comes to the old-style arc welders.

The Vevor puts out DC current all the time and being so light it’s hard to get the thing going in MMA/stick but if you scratch around long enough you can get an arc struck. Once burning, the Vevor seems to work like any other arc welder. Rated at a doubtful 130 amps, my Vevor tripped the 15-amp breaker in the shed at around 90 (indicated) amps. You’ll need at least a 20-amp rated receptacle to access all 130 amps, maybe even a 30-amp socket. Like all welding, stick welding is an acquired skill. The rod is continually getting shorter so you have to move your torch hand closer and closer to the work to maintain the correct distance. When your glove starts smoking it’s time to stop and get another rod. You’ll need to practice quite a bit before you make decent looking beads with stick. There is also a bit of splatter with stick.

Flux welding is a lot like stick, except instead of flux-covered rods you use a spool of steel wire with the flux inside. Flux core seems the easiest process to me. Setting up the machine is important but once you’ve got the wire speed and amperage right it’s pull the trigger and go. And go you can because you don’t need to stop and clamp a new rod in the holder to replace the ones you’ve consumed. The welder keeps feeding wire to the gun at a pre-set pace and your hand maintains the same distance the whole way through. Eventually the spool will run out but that’s after many feet of weld beads. Flux core also starts easy, for me anyway.

Flux core also splatters a bit like stick, maybe less. It’s no big deal (you can knock off the slag and balls of spooge afterwards). I am a total rookie at flux welding so I’ll need a lot more trial and error to get things right. Most YouTubers will tell you to buy a better roll of flux wire as the roll supplied with these cheap welders is not so great. After I run out I’ll buy a name brand roll of flux core to see if it makes a difference.

TIG (tungsten inert gas) welding is the coolest process of all. TIG usually uses an argon gas bottle to supply a flow of shielding gas to your weld. The actual process of welding is similar to oxy-acetylene welding except the torch is electric. With argon you don’t need flux but your material needs to be fairly clean. Unlike stick welding, you can’t just plow through rust and contaminated metal. TIG uses a tungsten rod as an electrode, but the rod is super tough and does not get consumed very fast.

My biggest problem with the Vevor in TIG mode (besides the fact that I am a terrible welder) is I forget to turn on the argon gas at the torch handle resulting in a burned mess and contaminated tungsten. More expensive machines do this automatically. The Vevor uses TIG lift, a method to strike an arc that seems to work fairly well most of the time. The expensive machines I mentioned above have a high-frequency start that keeps you from sticking the tungsten into the work and contaminating the rod. The TIG lift system works pretty well, I have no problem getting a TIG arc started with the Vevor.

With TIG you’ll usually need to add in filler rod just like torch welding. This is another hang up for me as my control of the filler rod is shaky. I often stick the rod onto the tungsten then I have to stop and clean the tungsten before going on. Dirty tungsten produces a crazy arc that wanders around or shoots out the side. The melted weld puddle is all over the place. It’s like playing whack-a-mole when this happens.

As I’ve said before, I’m a terrible welder so don’t hold these sample beads against the Vevor 130. A welder who knows what he’s doing will have no problem making decent beads with this machine. I am practicing on thin sheet metal mostly because I have a lot of it I cut out of an old file cabinet, and welding thin metal develops a better feel for heat control. I’m constantly burning through thin stuff. In these sheet metal samples the TIG produced the best-looking welds, although all of them are horrible.

As you can see from the backside, penetration on the thin steel was not an issue. Everything I did was too hot and was on the verge of burning through.

The above samples are on 1/8-inch thick steel. It’s an assortment of stick, TIG and flux core. If you look closely, you’ll see fleeting moments when everything was going well, followed by disaster. I give the $120 Vevor 130 high marks for economy and it really does weld all three processes. I haven’t yet welded long enough to overheat the machine, a common problem with cheap welders. If you want to weld 8-hours a day, you’ll need to spend a few thousand dollars.

I’ve been watching tons of how-to-weld videos and I plan on taking a welding class at NMSU next semester (Go Aggies!), my goal being to sort this mess out and produce some decent welding before I die. Note: All the samples in this story are just running beads. It’s harder to actually stick two pieces of metal together. Hang around ExhaustNotes.us long enough and you’ll see if I ever do become Vulcan.

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Adventures on Borrowed Time

By Joe Berk

I guess a good way to start a blog is to grab the reader’s attention, and I can do that here: How many people do you know who ride a Panther?

A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about Nick Adams, an interesting man, fellow motojournalist, and author. Nick is about the same age as me and he enjoys exploring the world on his different motorcycles. In other words, he is our kind of guy.

In my prior blog about Mr. Adams, I mentioned that I planned to purchase one of his books. I did, and a few days after ordering Adventures on Borrowed Time, it arrived.

Adventures on Borrowed Time is well written and well organized. It’s 191 pages long and it has lots of pictures. Nick’s writing style is conversational and easy to follow (it feels more like listening to a good friend’s stories than reading). The first chapter is about Nick’s ’72 Guzzi Eldorado (the one you see in the photos above). The following chapters take you through Canada, mostly on gravel roads, in good weather and bad. There are instances in which Nick’s Guzzi didn’t feel like starting, and Nick takes us through the steps he took to coax the old V-twin back to life. There are parts where Nick switches to his ’86 Suzuki Cavalcade (Suzuki’s attempt to cash in the Gold Wing craze), that monster of a bike’s surprisingly good handling, and the repairs Nick made to it. Parts of Adventures on Borrowed Time describe exploring Canada on Nick’s 650cc Suzuki Burgman scooter. And then, returning to my attention grabber at the start of this blog, Adventures on Borrowed Time describes Nick riding Canada on his 62-year-old Panther.

Never heard of the Panther? Don’t feel bad. The Panther is a 600cc single English bike made from 1900 to 1968, and most folks have never heard of it. They are fairly primitive, I think. I say “I think” because I’ve never even seen a Panther. And here’s Nick, describing what it’s like to take major trips through Canada on one. A long-distance moto adventure ride through the Canadian wilderness on a 62-year-old British motorcycle…what could go wrong?

The writing is superb, the photos are great, and the character development all make Adventures on Borrowed Time a book you need to read (the characters being Nick, his wife, the people he meets, and the bikes). You can purchase your copy of Adventures on Borrowed Time here. Trust me on this: You’ll enjoy it. You can thank me later.

My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part IV

By Bobbie Surber

A quick recap: In Part One, I kicked off this solo motorcycle journey on my trusty Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, lovingly christened Tippi. As I bid farewell to Sedona, the road promised a majestic odyssey. From the winding bends of the Colorado River to the breathtaking grandeur of Lees Ferry, Marble Canyon, Jacobs Lake, North Grand Canyon National Park, and Zion National Park, each mile etched indelible memories on my soul. Part Two unveiled the treasures of Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, and Great Basin National Parks, along with the legendary Loneliest Highway in America, Highway 50. The roads led me to Lake Tahoe, where I encountered unique wonders and overcame challenges that enriched my adventure. In Part Three, I entered the landscapes of Yosemite, Kings Canyon, Sequoia, and Lassen Volcanic National Parks. I visited the town of Bigfoot and the Lost Coast. Amidst these joys, there was a bittersweet encounter with my boyfriend, Mike, marking the end of a significant chapter in my life. Now, let’s continue the ride through northern California and the Oregon coast.

In the embrace of an early summer morning, I stood alone, a solitary figure beside my trusted motorcycle, Tippi. The sun painted the horizon in hues of gold and pink, casting a spell of serenity. This was the moment of bidding farewell to Greg, a friend whose hospitality touched my soul. The road stretched before me, an endless promise. As I eased Tippi out of Greg’s driveway, it felt as if the entire world held its breath, echoing the emotions that propelled me into this adventure. This journey, forged from the ashes of heartbreak and kindled by an insatiable wanderlust, was poised to unfold a voyage of self-discovery and emotional renewal.

Just the night before, I had embraced a decision steeped in emotional turbulence — a poignant farewell to my boyfriend, Mike. It was a decision marinated in profound sadness and the weight of loss. Despite the heaviness in my heart, I clung to the belief that the open road cradled an undiscovered trove of experiences, encounters, and life lessons. Each mile seemed to hold the promise of a fresh beginning, and as I departed McKinleyville, California on that Sunday morning, the marine mist hung in the air like a wispy veil. It created a backdrop to my reflections on the past and the enigma of the future. The chill in the air mirrored the swirling mix of emotions within me, signifying the dawn of a new chapter in my solitary adventure.

Surrounded by towering redwoods and glimpsing fleeting vistas of the boundless Pacific Ocean as the last remnants of marine fog dissipated, the morning unfurled in all the splendor I yearned for. We journeyed up the coast, passing through the awe-inspiring realm of Redwood National Park. This marked my tenth rendezvous with a national park in just a month of travel. Each park visit hammered home the vital importance of preserving our public lands, and standing amidst these colossal arboreal titans served as a perpetual reminder of their awe-inspiring grandeur.

Reluctantly, I bid adieu to the towering redwoods as Highway 101 gently steered me slightly inland, ushering me towards Elk Meadow. Here, nature unfolded a spectacle that stole my breath — an assembly of elk, the largest gathering I had ever witnessed. I yielded to the irresistible urge to halt and pay homage to their beauty, immortalizing the moment through the lens of my camera.

After our parting with the majestic elk, I made a brief sojourn in Crescent City, a pause to refuel Tippi and replenish my spirits with a cup of coffee. It was in this picturesque spot that I stumbled upon kindred spirits — two gentlemen on Ducati motorcycles. We shared a common destiny: Canada. While a twinge of envy for their sleek machines grazed my heart, I cherished the chance to engage in a brief yet warm-hearted conversation with fellow travelers.

With renewed zeal, Tippi and I resumed our journey on Highway 101, eager to cross into Oregon, the fifth state to embrace our adventure. We traversed familiar terrain, including the enchanting Harris Beach State Park and Whaleshead Beach in Brookings. While my original goal was Bandon, the unyielding coastal winds encouraged me to pursue the unknown paths that Oregon had hidden.

Coos Bay welcomed us with an uproarious windstorm, a tempestuous force of nature that consistently left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. After a hasty search on Rec.gov, I secured a campsite on the north side of Coos Bay. However, our path to the campground presented a challenge—an encounter with a bridge at the northern edge. Anxiety surged within me as a flashing warning sign taunted me with its “High Wind Alert” and “Overturned Vehicle” messages.

I wish I could recount the crossing of that bridge with calm and composure, but the truth was far from it. My grip on the handlebars was vice-like, my white knuckles bearing testimony to my sheer terror. My aversion to fierce winds reached its zenith, and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I navigated to the other side. Upon reaching the campground, my heart sank as I discovered an RV occupying the very spot I had reserved. The encounter with the RV owner left me frustrated and disheartened, an unfortunate epilogue to the nerve-wracking bridge escapade.

Thankfully, a benevolent camp host emerged as my savior, guiding me to an alternative sanctuary shielded from the relentless wind. After a modest dinner, I indulged in a generous pour of Irish whiskey, surrendering to the soothing embrace of slumber, grateful for the tranquility of the night.

As the sun greeted me with a gentle caress, I found myself back in the saddle on Tippi. An early morning ride past Florence unfolded, each curve of the road a thrilling waltz with the remnants of marine fog. This was my sanctuary — a joyful communion with the open road and splendid vistas without a hint of traffic. All too soon, Tippi beckoned me onwards, leading to Yachats, Oregon, a captivating seaside village promising both coffee and a well-deserved breakfast.

On a whim, I reached out to an old friend from Sedona, Elaine, her presence a comforting tether to the past. Hoping she and her gracious husband could join me for an impromptu cup of coffee, I was delighted when they not only accepted my invitation but also extended a generous offer for me to spend the night. It was the 4th of July, and their cottage, adorned with breathtaking views of the bay, surpassed all expectations.

I soon found myself immersed in the heartwarming tapestry of small-town America, a 4th of July parade, and savoring dinner with their friends by the bay (a diverse ensemble of souls who graciously embraced me). The day culminated in a spectacular sunset and an awe-inspiring fireworks extravaganza over the ocean (as you can see in the photo at the top of this blog).

Early the following morning, as I reassured my friends of my competence on a substantial bike, I negotiated their lengthy gravel driveway. But I inadvertently tipped Tippi over. My pride was slightly bruised, but with concerted effort, we righted Tippi, and my journey continued. The weather was perfect as the road led me along the rest of the Oregon coast, passing through my beloved coastal havens like Cannon Beach and Surf Pines before culminating in Astoria.

My journey reached a momentous juncture as I approached the Astoria-Megler Bridge, an imposing truss bridge spanning an astonishing 4.6 miles, suspended 192 feet above the majestic Columbia River. This crossing marked my entry into Washington State, and contrary to the daunting tales of ferocious winds, I was pleasantly greeted by a smooth and rewarding journey. I took a moment to document my arrival in my sixth state in just over five weeks on the road. With newfound enthusiasm, I revved up Tippi and continued my pilgrimage to the charming village of Westport, Washington, where my family eagerly awaited my arrival.

What an extraordinary adventure it has been, with the promise of even more to come. Along the way, I have cast aside heartache, embraced the highs and lows of the road, and found solace in the arms of independence, the kind of independence that comes from conquering challenges that nudge us beyond our comfort zones. I wholeheartedly embrace my addiction to solo motorcycle travel, cherishing the serendipitous encounters with strangers who become cherished friends, and savoring the freedom of the open road.

Stay tuned for the forthcoming chapter, where I will unveil my family adventures in Washington and the epic odyssey through Canada. I extend my heartfelt gratitude to you for joining me on this narrative journey. Your comments, suggestions, and unwavering support are a source of immense inspiration. Until then, whether you embark on a bike, in a car, on a bicycle, or simply with your own two feet, I implore you to heed the call of your own epic adventure. Safe travels, fellow adventurers!