The Crash - When I Hit a Dog on the Ho Chi Minh Road

Well, today it happened. I crashed my motorbike. Let me take you through the scene. I have been driving from Hanoi south towards Da Nang for two days now on the famous Ho Chi Minh Road. The Ho Chi Minh Road runs parallel to Vietnam's western border, stretching from north to south. It was originally based on the historic Ho Chi Minh Trail, which was a crucial supply route used by North Vietnamese forces during the Vietnam War. Today, it's been transformed into a scenic highway that slices through remote mountains, lush jungles, and peaceful rural villages. Over the past two days, I've driven over 650km, which means more than 6 hours of drive time. It's nice passing through rural villages on one road, not worrying about any turns. About 4 hours into my drive today, I was traveling 90 km/h on a straight road with no cars in sight. In the distance, I saw a yellow-gray figure meandering directly in the middle of the road. This is a view I have encountered numerous times on my month-long motorbiking trip in Vietnam. I have never once had an issue evading the many cows, dogs, chickens, water buffalo, goats, horses, or any other creatures. Typically, the dogs — the smartest of the bunch — get out of the way of bikes and cars. This time, though, the dog did not. As I continued on my path, expecting the dog to move, it did not. I tried veering left to avoid it as I got closer, noting that it was not budging. As I drifted left, the dog slowly walked right into the path of my bike, and BANG! I didn't just hit the dog — I baptized it in the unholy rite of Honda combustion, as if some twisted road demon demanded a toll. I didn't just hit the dog — I sent it to the afterlife with express shipping, postage paid by 110cc of accidental fury. I didn't just hit the dog — I high-fived entropy at 90 kilometers per hour. After a loud thud, I quickly fell off my motorbike, falling towards the right side. I remember sliding on the asphalt for about 1.5 meters with my bike on top of me. After I came to a halt, I lay on the road writhing in pain, with the motorbike on top of me, trying to assess the damage. Within 10 seconds, a Vietnamese man from a local shop came over to me, lifted the motorbike off my right leg, and got it out of the road. I lay open on the road, surrendered to the universe, trying to understand how badly I was injured. I didn't know if my foot was broken or where I was hurt, but adrenaline coursed through my veins. I didn't stand up immediately because I knew my right leg was injured. I rolled up my pants and saw blood on my knee and my ankle, which was black and bruised. It wasn't super painful, so I assumed it wasn't broken. After laying on the road for a minute and letting my right leg rest, I reached out my hand to a man to help me up. I put some weight on my right foot, and it was able to stand some. While all this was happening, a crowd started to form around me. I was lucky this occurred in a small village rather than in the middle of nowhere. In a matter of 5 minutes, about 25 people surrounded me on all sides. I was sitting in a chair in the middle of the whole village. There were mostly kids around the age of 10, older women, and some middle-aged men. An older gentleman brought some bandages and band-aids to help fix me up. I was amazed by how quickly the local Vietnamese villagers came to the rescue of a foreigner. As I winced in pain, I could only laugh at the scene forming around me. The kids stared at me with big eyes, and I gave them fist bumps. To my right were three younger girls, maybe around 17 or 18. As I sat with blood dripping, they took it upon themselves to type on Google Translate that I was handsome. I mean, I guess it's worth a shot as a Vietnamese villager who rarely sees a foreigner. However, it was extremely tone-deaf to the situation. I laughed and gave them my Facebook and Instagram as I was bandaged up. The crowd grew and grew, and even though I was hurting, I enjoyed the friendliness and the hilarity of the event. Nobody spoke a word of English, and I sat there, entrusting the locals to bandage me up. They even brought some Neosporin-type spray to clean the wounds. I ended up with a knee scratch, a scratch on my right elbow, and a pretty bad gash on my right hip, which hurt the most. I was worried I wouldn't be able to drive and would be stuck in the local village. I rested for about 20 minutes and concluded I wasn't hurt that badly, so I continued to drive for another 1.5 hours. I was in pain, but not enough to stop me. I drove super slowly and passed many more dogs, which spooked me. My bike suffered practically no damage. The right mirror fell off, but I can put that back on. These Honda bikes are practically indestructible. I didn't kill the dog on impact. When I got up from the road, I heard the dog winching in pain and hobbling off the road. It must be dead by now — I hit it pretty hard. I am sorry, doggy. I am extremely grateful the accident wasn't worse. It could have gone way worse; I don't even want to imagine it. ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, this was probably the best-case scenario. I am annoyed, frustrated, and sad about the events. I have to remind myself that I can't let it ruin my mood. I'm still driving through beautiful Vietnam, surrounded by such kind locals and amazing food. The kindness of the Vietnamese people has really been above and beyond. They are probably the friendliest and most welcoming people I have ever encountered. Last night, the daughter of the homestay I was staying at asked me about my dream. I was stumped because I haven't thought about it in a while. But now I know I am living my dream, and I am grateful to share it with you.