IN the mid-1990s, as Cambodia recovered from the horrific genocidal crimes of the psychopathic Khmer Rouge, a group of dirtbikers set off on one of the nuttiest and greatest motorcycle adventures in history (parts one and two of this story can be found here and here).
Dirt-biking in Cambodia (© Andrew Spooner)
“THERE were a few years when Phnom Penh was really unhinged,” says Ben. “Zeman and me used to go for what we termed ‘danger beers’. Basically, just for a laugh, we’d ride the bikes to a bar opposite any spot that was notorious for shootouts. We’d sit down, open a tinny and wait for it to go off. There’d be grenades thrown, pistols drawn and AK47s on full automatic, the lot. They were wild, wild days.” And while the Cambodians had no compunction about shooting each other, they were also not too shy about pulling guns on Westerners.
“There was one incident when I was riding with my Cambodian wife and daughter through town on my XR,” says Ben. “This big, black SUV pulled out, almost knocking us off, so I shouted and swung my leg at it. I then noticed it circling around, coming back after us.” At this point things took a dramatic turn. “A small Cambodian in a sharp suit jumped out holding a pistol. He held it to my head and started screaming in perfect Harvard-educated English. He wanted to know why he shouldn’t kill me.” Then things got worse. “I was scared enough but then this guy’s bodyguard jumped out holding an AK47. He was shouting in Khmer and had that distant look of a real psycho.” Personal armed protection has become a de rigueur symbol of power for Cambodia’s elite with most of these bodyguards being drawn from the ranks of hardened, psychologically damaged civil war veterans. They are exceedingly trigger happy. “The whole scene was surreal and played out in broad daylight on one of Phnom Penh’s busier streets,” says Ben. “It was my wife who saved the day. She was on her knees in front of this guy begging for forgiveness.”
By the end of the 1990s things took a darker turn for both Zeman and Ben. “I had this huge fight with the cops in Phnom Penh,” says Zeman. “I was just super-stressed out with the club and all the stuff I’d seen over the years. They ended up badly breaking my leg and I had to be medi-vaced back to the UK. While I was waiting in the hospital in Phnom Penh the two people in the beds next to me both died of similar injuries due to infection. It was a very bad time for me.” For Ben events took a decidedly tragic twist. “I was riding through a small village on this flat, straight stretch of the main road between Phnom Penh,” he says. “This stupid woman just ran out dragging her young daughter behind her. I couldn’t stop and hit the kid. She died. There was nothing I could do.”
For Zeman there are few regrets. “Some people might think we were suicidal maniacs but we weren’t,” he says. “We just had a disrespect for the sense of Western responsibility. We wanted adventure and didn’t really think about death.” It must be said that for all the dark moments there was plenty of light. “I remember riding the bikes through the primordial rainforest of the Cardamom Mountains, traversing ridge after ridge, each one unfolding into enormous, stunning views. Completely unforgettable.” And what about the worst? “Getting lost, getting guns pointed at you. But, like I said, we were always looking to push the limits.”
