I’m sitting by the beach at 9:00 AM, enjoying a piece of grilled squid. I’ve been riding since 6:30, and this is my third breakfast of the day. A disheveled Swedish man with a puffy face and flyaway curls pulls up on a motorcycle and says breathlessly, “Have you seen three French girls? I’m supposed to meet them here to take a boat out to the island.” I think, “Oh my god, I’m in a French sex comedy.”
Soon the bike and I are in a fishing boat, on the way to spend a few hours on a speck of land in the Gulf of Thailand.
The island has 20 inhabitants, six of whom of are police officers, all of whom are drunk. The police are there to guard the local coconuts and sea urchins against Vietnamese incursion, a duty which takes up approximately none of their time. They try to interest us in the purchase of a bottle of Cambodian liquor. Taking a swig, the Swede says, “Couldn’t sell this in Sweden.” The cops wander off to defend the border against sudden attacks of sobriety.
I spend a few hours exploring the perimeter of the island on my bike, diving for starfish, and mistaking sunken coconuts for submerged human heads. Soon it’s time for me to return to the mainland and resume pedaling. As my boat pulls away from shore, I gaze back at the tableau of my four new friends standing on a white sand beach, facing seaward, arms swaying overhead in farewell salutes.
And it hits me again: the sentimentality of the Endless Goodbye. Possibly the only real downside to cycle touring is that you are forever bidding farewell to people you’ve only just met, people who, for all you know, go on to lead fantastically gripping, inspiring, or tragic lives. All you can safely surmise about those lives is that they don’t in any meaningful way include you.
As the boat speeds away, I supply voiceovers for the receding figures on the beach.
“I’m going to miss that crazy kid.”
“I knew him for only a few hours, but he touched me in a way that will last a lifetime.”
“Au revoir, Adam Stein. Next time in Paris!”
“God, those bike shorts are hot.”
Reluctantly, I resume pedaling. I don’t know it yet, but I have a wedding to get to.
