It's like a motorcycle only slower and with less sex appeal.

My boss Paul: How excited are you, on a scale of one to ten?
Me: An eight.
Paul: What will get you to a ten?
Me: Getting a motorcycle jacket.

Ravi from the doctors office: You're going to India? Wow, that's where I was born. I go back every year. Where will you be staying? Hotels?
Me: Well, a mix of hotels and rough camping probably.
Ravi: Hah! [he grins knowingly] You know it will be just about monsoon season right?

So I've decided I need a motorcycle jacket and helmet with enough chic cache to make up for the fact that I'll look like a miserable drowned rat driving a rickshaw in a monsoon. Let me know if you can hook me up.

Ready

Me: What about malaria?
Travel nurse: Well, you should take doxyxcycline because malaria in India is resistant to the other drugs. Also, get a Polio vaccine. Rabies would have been a good idea, but it's too late.

Me: Here's my application.
AAA staffer: Well, I don't have a specific driving permit category for autorickshaws. You'll have to take your chances with the permit as it stands.

Me: Will this medication be ok for the trip since I can't keep it in the refrigerator?
Pharmacist: Yes, just try not to leave it in a closed car.

Me: I'm going to India to raise money for charity! COOL HUH!
Optical Technician: "India? Huh. Well. You have a very slim face. This pair might look good on you."

it's all cricket.

The good Brits "organizing" the Rickshaw Run plan on having a game of cricket before the launch. Thankfully Andy on forums helped us out with a brief primer on the sport.

You have two sides: One out in the field and one in.
Each man that's in the side that's in goes out and when he's out he comes in and the next man goes in until he's out.
When they are all out the side that's out comes in and the side that's been in goes out and tries to get those coming in out.
Sometimes you get men still in and not out.
When both sides have been in and out including the not outs,
That's the end of the game.

Thanks Andy.

thank you!

Thank you all so much for being so generous. When Dad recently sent an email telling people about the charity aspect of our trip so many of you responded! The money will go to purchase and refurbish the rickshaw to be used and donated to an individual or family in need. Giving a rickshaw to a poor family is a huge life changing gift that enables them to earn a living without ending up in impossible debt for the initial purchase. To date you've given $1,150 dollars, which means we've almost reached our minimum donation! I've raised our target to $2,500 - double the minimum. Everything over the rickshaw purchase price will go directly to programs Mercy Corps supports in India. Thank you so much! If you'd like to donate but haven't yet, use the link in the right sidebar.

What does one say at a time like this?

The night before Dad and Mom leave:

Me: "What are you working on?"
Dad: "Oh I'm making up custom luggage tags for each individual piece of luggage in case we lose them."
There are at least 8 unique color coded tags coming off the printer.
Me: "Oh? How many bags are you taking to India?"
Dad: "One."

Me: "What are these blue containers for, I like them?"
Dad: "They're waterproof!"
Me: "Cool! What are you puttin' in them?"
Dad: "Oh I don't know. I like to choose containers first then what to put in them."

Dad, carrying an old carwash shammy: "Is this iron hot?"
Mom: "No."
Dad: "Well I wish it was."
He turns on the iron and presses it.

To Be Sorted

The packing list includes tripods, rechargeable batteries, tape, whistles, string, baggies, hoses, markers, cameras, cords, cables, bottles, creams, lotions, sprays, notes, a golf tee, and other small items.
It looks like his only bag will be entirely full of small items.
Tonight we've lived up to our name.

No.

One night a couple of months ago I approached my father.
"Dad," I said.
"Dad, will do the the Rickshaw Run with me? We'll take a
rickshaw across the entire sub-continent of India as fast as we
possibly can."
"Do we trade off?"
"Yea, we'll switch off who's driving."
"Then No," he said.
That, I thought was the end of the story. I left the room in utter disbelief. Didn't he want to know more? Wasn't he intrigued by the invitation? How could he not want to be my co-driver?
It took me a few hours before I realized my mistake. I padded back down the hall.
"You know you don't have to exercise right? They're auto-rickshaws."
"Oh really? Then yes. Let's go."

fear & hope

A recent article reported:
"Thousands of people in eastern India have fled their homes in fear as elephants crash through villages looking for one of their herd, which fell into a ditch and drowned over the weekend."

I can only hope that we never fall into a ditch big enough to drown an elephant.

The article continues:

“We have not slept for three days and the few of us left are lighting huge bonfires to keep the elephants at bay without success,”

I can also only hope that this violent, grieving herd has calmed down before we pass directly through that area.

Flathead

There's a reason for the name.

An ice cream cake was recently discovered in the Cambian layer of our freezer. Carbon dating indicates that the cake is not really very old and, in fact, was only very recently "put on ice" (as the quaint expression goes around our house. ) Sadly, about half the image has been eaten away by either 1) freezer burn or 2) very clever and cold-tolerant mice. I've done my best to restore/recreate the original picture. Instead of calling it a fresco I have jokingly referred to it as a frostco. Ha! Such wit! As it turns out the cake was custom made for Susan's birthday and the [expensive] decorative icing was meant to celebrate this grand adventure we both are going to take. I do not think it is a good omen, though, that I (Dad Taylor) do not appear in the passenger seat in the picture. Either Susan is unaware I've been thrown from rickshaw into a skim coat of cow manure on the road or she is aware and is delighted by the thought, figuring I will catch up with her at some point and - after a shower - regale her with the story over a gin and tonic. Looking forward to it.

Holy Tome

Patrick, of Team Ramrod, has no idea what he’s done. On the occasion of my birthday, quite innocently and unknowingly, he cursed me. At 9:35pm on September 8th he gave me the Lonely Planet India. Since that moment I have been unable to show love for another human being. Her text has consumed me. 1.94 pounds of enthralling specifics and details. 1140 pages of pure joy. Love can wait. I have planning to do.

Set in Soap

This just in:
"The start and end points are fixed in soft rock or hard soap as Cochin and Darjeeling." - Tom, Rickshaw Run "Organizer"

Someone used all my India shaped soap. I've had to use the far inferior map medium known as the Jpeg to illustrate this news.

Dusty Gautlets

To Be Sorted can no-longer expect to put merely our pride on the line come December 27. Honor, wealth, and women are not acceptable stakes. No. We must put our very humanity on the line. If we are to be real Autorickshaw drivers we are called to wager our thumbs. The very thing which brought the human race to our current evolutionary glory. Our opposable masterwork.

The appendages of many high profile racer lie limp in the dirt in the name of this longstanding Indian tradition. The loser of a major race is left unable to operate a rickshaw for the rest of his shameful life. Certainly 2,000 miles is a major race. Certainly we are high profile racers. But can I be certain To Be Sorted will not be forced to cut off our own thumbs?

Annoucing:To Be Sorted

With nothing but three wheels and 145cc the auto-rickshaw is our chariot. Over two weeks we will pilot her from a game of cricket in Tamilnadu to afternoon tea in Darjeeling. Follow us here - as we prepare for the Rickshaw Run 2006.