The Motorbike Diaries

The Motorbike Diaries kicked off in 2008 when I was living and working in Vietnam. This chronicles my epic journey to become a part of Vietnamese culture and drive among the locals. My attempt to blend in, rev up, and somehow survive the madness of Vietnamese traffic while inching my way into the culture—one honk and near-miss at a time.

how to ride a motorbike in vietnam — A nervous laugh…here I go!

Back in 2008, I packed up my fear (and a few too many pairs of shoes) and moved to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Why? Because I had one ridiculous, terrifying, and oddly thrilling goal: to learn how to ride a motorbike in Vietnam. (what I was convinced was the most chaotic traffic on Earth) Forget skydiving or bungee jumping—this was my ultimate fear factor challenge.

Sure, there were some secondary reasons too—like keeping my travels rolling, testing out life as a “local,” and making a little cash teaching ESL. But let’s be honest, it was the motorbike that lured me in… and scared the crap out of me every single day.

You’ve probably heard of The Motorcycle Diaries—Che Guevara’s epic two-wheeled odyssey across South America. In honor of that, I christened my own adventure The Motorbike Diaries. Because let’s face it, slapping a dramatic name on a project not only makes it sound important—it keeps me accountable when I’m tempted to chicken out.

Motorbikes are basically the heartbeat of modern Vietnam

They’re freedom on two wheels—your ticket to zipping around the city, hauling your family of five (plus the dog, and maybe a fridge), and showing off that you’ve “made it.” They’re also the culprits behind the smog, the noise, and the daily road chaos that makes crossing the street feel like a full-contact sport. In short, motorbikes are Vietnam in a nutshell: everything wonderfully right and maddeningly wrong, all buzzing together in one noisy, smoky, fascinating swarm.

It started with a Xe-Om

When I first landed in Ho Chi Minh City, my grand plan was simple: buy a motorbike, hop on, and immediately start weaving through traffic like a local. Easy, right? Except… nope. The second I saw the tsunami of motorbikes on the streets, my bravado evaporated. I chickened out. Big time.

Instead, I took what I thought was a temporary detour: the xe-ôm (pronounced “say ohm”). In English, we’d call it a motorbike taxi, but the literal translation is motorbike hug. Which is hilariously accurate, because climbing on the back of a stranger’s bike is basically the world’s fastest intimacy exercise.

At first, I told myself it was just a stopgap until I got brave enough to drive myself. But then I got… well, not lazy exactly, but comfortable. It was easy. Too easy. My “temporary solution” turned into months of daily xe-ôm rides. I even had a roster of regular drivers, which made me feel like I had a personal chauffeur—minus the luxury, plus the occasional worry they’d had a liquid breakfast.

Xe-om in Vietnam motorbike taxi — On the back of a Vietnam motorbike

Why I Finally Decided to Learn to Drive

One of my drivers finally called me out. He pushed me to learn to ride on my own, even dragging me to a so-called “quiet” corner of the city (spoiler: Vietnam’s definition of quiet is very different from mine) to practice. It was kind of sweet—until I realized he was basically training himself out of a paycheck.

That’s when the decision hit me square in the face: keep cruising along in the comfy, easy lane—or finally do what I actually came here to do.