This is really awkward, but Megan tried to kill me on Sunday.
To say I’m skeptical about driving on a moto after my mini accident on Freaky Friday Halloween is an understatement.
I can easily drive to Hien’s for lunch because it is basically a straight shot from my apartment. I’m okaaaaaay with driving to work — only because I have to. But if I have to go anywhere else I have mini freak outs before getting on my bike for a damn good reason. I’m a firm believer in the idea that the Vietnamese drivers coined the term ‘no fucks given.’ SoOOooO on Sunday night when Megan and I wanted fresh Mexican food, we knew ordering in was not an option.
Our plan was to go to Khoi Tam — the closest thing to authentic Mexican food you can get in Nam. Google Maps tracks it as a 7 minute drive. A right turn and a left turn. Easy enough, right?
Haha. Haha. Hah.
We get through the heavier traffic and I pull up to the stoplight to get ready to make a right turn. I’m sitting with my feet on the ground (Thank God) waiting for the light to turn green when suddenly I get rocked and thrown to my left, my bike nailing my ankle as it’s forced over.
All I can make out is this fool with a long braid flying between my moto and the guy next to me (how come I got hit tho). This fool is apologizing as she is half braking, half hitting the gas throttle with her feet on the ground slightly hopping while she is trying to brake, narrowly avoiding the pole on the corner.
This ‘fool’ turned out to be Megan.
Thank God the cross walk was empty because she probably would have annihilated the poor pedestrians in the crosswalk. Despite almost shitting myself, when I saw it was Megan struggling to control her bike I couldn’t help but laugh, because what the fuck, Megan.
As soon as she was able to get her bike under control and I was able to get myself together I pulled up next to her (with some distance) and made sure she was okay. We were both more shaken up than actually being injured — which I’m okay with. The dinner was worth our collision tho.
Look at this slice of fake Mexico:
Monday Morning I couldn’t figure why my ankle was bruised and swollen. And then it all came back to me.
Even when you try to kill me I still lovez ya, Meg.
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