After Jamie headed back to the U.S., I spent nearly two weeks in Thailand. I wasn't planning on it, but my body, my soul, my mind all needed time to rest, reflect and ponder.

After my enjoyable, relaxing three days spent at the Bamboo Guesthouse, located on the Thailand side of the Mekong River, I continued my non-hurried days in Chiangmai. Only a few other guests came and went during my days at the Moon Light Guesthouse, all of them staying on the first two floors. I enjoyed the top floor all to myself. In a way it was like having my own apartment. With the dawning of each day I looked no further than the setting sun; no plans were made for the following day until all the events of the day at hand had been experienced.

I woke early every morning so that I could ride before the midday heat became unbearable. I found a few new trails, but still favored the rocketing downhill to the lake.

Afternoons were spent reading, playing guitar, and napping. On quite a few of the days my nap didn't begin until five or six in the afternoon. The reason for such a late nap was to awake refreshed and ready for a night at the club Bubbles. Bubbles only just began getting going at midnight, so after my nap I would eat a slow dinner and check my e-mails. Each night at Bubbles I would dance nearly non-stop from twelve till it's closing time at two-thirty. I enjoyed having the endurance to ride during the day and still groove to my heart's content at tonight.

Though I was in no real hurry to leave, I left the day after my tires arrived. And so began my journey to Malaysia.

I got on the bus in Chiangmai at seven in the afternoon, and was happy to find the bus only half full, allowing me to lay myself out on two seats with my feet propped up on the armrest across the isle. I slept most of the way to Bangkok. After we arrived, at seven in the morning, I bought a continuing ticket to Butterworth, and then got some breakfast.

At the time I had no idea that Butterworth was in Malaysia – maps, I don’t need no stinkin’ maps. I knew the bus went through Surat Thani on the east coast of Thailand, so I just assumed that it was the east coast border town to Malaysia.

I was lead to believe that the one bus would take me the whole way. I learned otherwise when we got to Surat Thani. Most of the people were headed off to Ko Phangan for the full moon party, but a small handful of people going to Malaysia and other parts of Southern Thailand were loaded into a minibus. There wasn't enough room in the minibus for my bike and all my bags so they called a pickup to come take me to the other buses. Upon arriving at the travel agent’s office, the lady in change informs me that there is no way that my bike, and all my bags are going to fit in the minibus headed to Malaysia, and so sends me back to the bus stop where I got off. There, I start to unload my bags, but then before I finish I'm told to reload my bags and that we are going back to the agency. The driver tells me that for 1000 baht I can pay for two more seats. I had already payed 650 plus an extra 100 baht, so there was no way I was going to shell out an additional grand. It then became a waiting game.

It was there that I found out that Butterworth was in Malaysia. I also found out that a ticket on a local bus to Hat Yai, near the border, was 150 baht, and from Hat Yai to Butterworth it was 250 baht. I therefore questioned the driver on his math. Even if I were to buy two more seats it'd only be 800 baht. After some time he said that I could go in his minibus for 800 baht. I told him I'd pay 500. He was a very high-strung individual, and though I kept my voice very even and calm during the price negotiations his voice continued to grow louder and his demeanor more irrational and abrasive. The more he repetitively demanded 800 baht, the more I just had to laugh. My laughter only infuriating him further.

In the end I raised my offer to six hundred. In hindsight I should have held firm at five hundred. They were in a bind to fill the minibus, and the other tourists were becoming irritated with the wait. So, in total I paid 1250 baht, which I later learned was only 100 baht more than a couple of other people paid for their tickets to Butterworth from Bangkok.

When we got to Butterworth one of the guys on the bus, a dive instructor in Thailand, Mike, was staying on the bus and going to Penang. He told us that there were better guesthouses there, so we all said that we, too, would continue on. The travel agent in Hat Yai had taken our tickets so the driver had no idea of knowing where we were supposed to get off, and if he should charge us extra.

I spent three days in Penang. It's not the most interesting city, but there was enough to do, and the food in Malaysia is fantastic. There is great Malay, Chinese, and Indian food to be had.

I planned to be on the road by six the next morning, but overslept and didn't make it out until seven. My plan was to ride to the Cameron Highlands, which is famous for it’s cool weather and beautiful tea plantations. In my opinion, Malaysian tea is some of the best tea there is.

Though Highway 1 wasn’t the most scenic of roads to tour along, it was a pleasant change to the prevailing gray tint that we encountered in Laos. The dulling of the greens of the trees and bushes, due to the widespread slash-and-burn farming, had dampened my spirit while we were there.

Green: the color of life, the life giving color. In realizing what I had been missing, I rode along admiring the freshly cut grass, the manicured bushed, the densely foliated tress, and the lush jungle that spread up the mountains beyond the road. As I did so, I began to feel rejuvenated. I felt a new happiness welling inside of me.

I reached Tapah, the turnoff to start the climb up to the Cameron Highlands on the third day at eleven o'clock. I was told where to find the cheapest room, but when I went there, there was nobody around, and the check-in time wasn't until two o'clock. So I went to the park and read while I waited. I found out when I returned that their cheapest room was 25 ringgit! Way more than I was about to pay. Twenty-five ringgit is roughly $6.50. Not a lot to pay for a room, but I had just come from Thailand where I was paying two dollars at most. I therefore decided that I'd start the climb up to the Cameron Highlands, and just camp when it got dark. In making the decision I thought I'd better grab a bite to eat before I started off. While I was eating it started to rain heavily, but it only lasted an hour or so. It wasn't such a bad wait anyhow. I got into a conversation with one of the Malay guys working there about traveling, and the freedom of traveling. As we spoke I could see that he sought confirmation in his beliefs, and in hearing them from me, I'm sure I provided him with added conviction to follow his dreams. I sure hope he does.

The rain cooled the air, and enhanced the fresh fragrances of the flowers, plants, and trees of the jungle. I knew that I wouldn't make it the whole way that day so I enjoyed spinning at a nice leisurely pace, letting my nostrils fill and relish the sweetness filling the air, and letting my eyes behold the lush green that my soul had been craving.

I decided that I'd ride until six-thirty. At six o'clock I pulled into a small convenience store that had been set up to provide for the workers and worker's families of a small electrical facility next to it. I grabbed a small chocolate and hazelnut milk, a large soymilk, and an electrolyte drink. I pounded the electrolyte drink and pushed on. I only went a kilometer or so up the road before I found a small, overgrown trail leading to a dilapidated, abandoned hut. Next to the hut were two perfect trees for hanging my Hennesy hammock, offering an outstanding view of the valley, and was completely obstructed from view of the road. After I set up my hammock I dashed across the road to bathe where a small trickle of water washed over the rocks. I wanted to bathe and get back to my hidden campsite without being noticed. I didn't want any uninvited guest to stop by for a visit during the night.

It was a continual steady climb from my campsite to Tanah Rata. I arrived hungry at two o'clock, and when I got to the Cameron Holiday Inn Guesthouse I didn't think of looking any further. I was happy to pay 18 ringgit for a nice room with a big comfy-looking double bed.

It was so nice to sleep snuggled under covers. It had been a long time since I slept under anything more than my sarong. There was a slight chill still left in the air when I woke, so I lay there for a couple of hours until I finished my book.

After seemingly endless days of profuse sweating I was in no rush to leave the nearly perfect temperature of the Cameron Highlands and ended up spending four days in the there. As for riding, it wasn't so great, but the weather and the relaxing environment completely made up for it.

It took me two 100 km. days to reach Kuala Lumpur. While Jamie and I were in Thialand back in February, we had gotten an e-mail from a Matt Schneller in Kuala Lumpur. He told us that he was dialed in with the riding scene, lived just a few minutes from trails, and we were welcome to come crash at his pad while we were in KL. Matt hadn’t given me the best directions to get to his house, but my sense of direction was right on and I turned off at the right exit. I didn’t have a detailed map, so I asked and received what seemed to be basic directions. Matt’s directions hinged up being able to find certain major landmarks near his house. The problem was that everyone I asked had no idea where any of them were – even the taxi drivers didn’t know.

By following people’s assumed directions, I ended up making a huge loop over a major hill. The landmark that I was looking for was the Kuala Lumpur Golf and Country Club. The whole time I was going over the hill I was thinking to myself that there was no way there was a golf club on the top of a hill, but people kept telling me to continue the way I was going.

It wasn’t until I had nearly completed my loop that I found a manned guard shack in front of one of the houses. He was the first person that seemed to have any clue whatsoever as to the area around him and gave me exact directions. Fifteen minutes later I was in Matt's neighborhood. I still had an hour left before he came home, and so went to the park near his house and took up some grass in a spot where I'd see him drive by. I knew what type of truck he drove because he had sent me a picture of his "baby" in a previous e-mail.

***See Singapore’s newsletter***

Matt arranged it so that I could rent a road bike from a local shop and do a big road ride with him. We joined in on the first day of an eight-day ride from Malaysia to Singapore to raise money for AIDS research. I was totally fired up to be going on a road ride. I had really been missing my road bike.

There wasn't any formal start that I was aware of, and we just fell in pace with the line of riders already stretching a few blocks down the road. It was about ten km. or so to the edge of town where the climb began. We rolled along at the slow pace of the main group until we started getting close to the climb. Matt wisely wanted to be near the front when we started climbing; he didn't want to be left out of the lead climbing group.

Sure enough, as the road started to steepen, the pace picked up and a small pack of fifteen to twenty riders began to break away. Matt, his friend Greg and I took our place up near the front of the small pack. It was like a dream to be back in a pack of riders, feeding off the synergy of each rider's effort to keep the pack in motion. We lucked out on the weather and had a nice thin, non-menacing cloud cover to shield us from a direct pounding from the sun. Furthering to keep us at a comfortable climbing temperature was the dense canopy of jungle foliage that arched over the road from both sides, nearly forming an organic tunnel.

In the beginning I was letting my attention be averted by the various plants and trees lining the road, but as I moved up in the pack to among the first five riders, I began concentrating more on maintaining a steady speed and cadence.

It was an epic ride, full of battling climbs and wicked fast descents. Both Matt and Greg are extremely strong riders, and the three of us worked together and broke away from the pack on the way back. It was the first time in a long time that I was I was having to really dig deep to hang. It felt good.

I spent a few days at Matt’s house, and then hoped on a plane to Sibu, Sarawak, Borneo. A couple years ago Jamie and I had came to Borneo for out “test ride” of Peace Pedalers. During out trip we met Michael Lu, and avid mountain biker and an all-around great guy. We had kept in touch, and it just so happened that he was putting on The Borneo Mountain Bike festival 2003. It was great catching up with him, meeting his family, and, of course, going to the festival.

I got to pre-ride the course the day before, and also go out for a late afternoon ride with a bunch of the other participants. I was the only foreigner, one of the Peace Pedalers, and being the winner of the 24-hour race in Thailand, treated as somewhat celebrity. Everyone I met was so friendly, and I think I must have had a smile on my face the entire three days. The race was a total blast, and I ended up placing 3rd in the downhill race.

***See Brunei’s newsletter***

*** took a side trip to visit my family in the U.S., and spent a month in Korea teaching English**

Matt is a superstar. In coming back from Korea, I had to stop by his place to drop off my bike before I headed back to Borneo to do some diving. In doing so he told me that I could use his dive gear, which is the best of the best.

It was my third trip to Sabah, Borneo, and this time I was determined to dive at the world-famous Sipadan Island. Borneo Divers had one of the better reputations and good prices so I went with them.

I was an early morning 6:30 flight, an hour or two bus ride, and a couple hour or so boat ride out to Sipadan. I didn't really look at my watch. My mind was buzzing with excitement and expectations; too wrapped up in the anticipation of getting there to be concerned with how long it actually took.

When we arrived, were all seated around a circular table, behind our perspective glass of freshly squeezed watermelon juice and a small stack of release forms for us to sign. There are just too many damn lawyers in the world, and too many damn people who refuse to be held accountable for their own actions – but that’s just my opinion.

After bags were taken to our rooms, we were quickly given a tour of the resort, teamed up with a buddy diver if we didn’t have one, and then it was time to get into the water.

The DM took us for our first shore dive, so get us acquainted with the general layout of the reef surrounding the island, and to show us the "turtle cave" so that we wouldn't go into it by accident.

I was blown away by how many turtles we saw that first dive. They seemed to be everywhere, seemingly effortlessly, gracefully floating through the water. I was in Awe.

On the second dive, again a shore dive along the wall, we were nearing the point where we were going to turn around due to air when I saw three large sharks off to my left in deep water. We had seen smaller white-tip reef sharks earlier in the dive, and on the previous dive, but these were much bigger. They were a ways off, but as I peered through the mask I could clearly see that these were different: the distinct shape of their head told me that I was getting my first personal look at hammerhead sharks. My first reaction, after getting my dive buddy's attention and point out the sharks, was to kick like mad to get a closer look. Hammerheads are known to be potentially dangerous, but that never registered. I did start to bolt for the sharks, but seeing as it was only my second dive with my buddy, I wasn't sure how he'd react and just hovered there, watching them elegantly fade into the dark water beyond. Had I known at the time that I wouldn't see anymore during my stay on Sipadan, I'm sure I wouldn't have hesitated in the slightest to get a closer look.

The rest of the dives were amazing as well. I saw gobs of white-tip reef sharks, turtles galore, a huge school of jacks that completely encased me to the point where I couldn't see any of the other divers, a huge school of bump head parrot fist came out of the darkness right at us during a night dive, twice saw a massive school of barracuda - got very close to it the first time, more turtles that I could count, and such a major variety of smaller fish - most of which I didn't know their names.

The accommodations weren’t super lavish, but we were there to dive anyway, and it definitely seemed like we were under water more than above water. At least they fed us well. In fact, we ate like kings!

I flew back to Matt’s and was hoping that I'd be able to get on the road a few days after I got to KL, but Old Man Mountain was backed up and hadn't been able to get the clamps out that I needed. I ended up spending two weeks waiting for them. This wasn't such a bad deal since I was able to hang at my friend Matt's place with great mountain biking just down the road. During the week I was riding by myself, but on the weekends I'd hook up with the local riders.

Everything went wrong on the 27th. Matt and I were having a fantastic day out riding. The trails were in perfect condition, and we took some good photos of some drops. I was feeling great, and my riding was fluid. I guess it was too fluid. As I stopped to lower my seat as we were coming on to a fast section of the trail, the last section, Matt rolled past. I had been jamming on that section of the trail all week, and it wasn't long before I started inching up on Matt's tail. I took my eyes off the trail for a second to judge the distance between us. It was then that I hit a small mound in the trail right before a slight bend. At the speed I was going, my bike lifted off and carried me over the trail. I tried to get the bike pointed back in the right direction with some body English, but the bike abruptly stuck in the soft shoulder as it touched down. From there it was a fast blurring of momentum and motion. I can only assume that the sharp, nearly instant stopping of my bike caused me to be flung to the side at a high rate of speed. There was a quick flash of the large hardwood tree, enough to cause my reflexes to get my right arm up to deflect the impact. That is about all I remember from the crash itself. The next memory is the extreme pain that was shooting throughout the right side of my body, and the sound of my own scream of terror and agony that seemed to enclose me. The surrounding jungle was just a blur. The force of the impact was so violent that it spun me completely around to the other side of the tree. My whole chest seemed caved in, and my breathing was coming in gasps, and leaving in guttural outcries of pain. It was too intense to cause tears. I yelled out once for Matt. Only the monkeys heard it. As soon as I could begin to breath somewhat normally, and then fully comprehend what had just occurred, I knew that my arm was broken. My first thought was to check and see if the bone was protruding through the skin. I slid my left hand down the length of my arm and then checked my palm to see if there was any blood. If I was able to feel relief at that point, I'm must have felt a little. It took everything I had to suppress the pain enough to get my arm secured under the sternum strap of my Camelbak. In my first attempt to stand up I nearly collapsed straight over. Instead, I dropped to my knees and focused on keeping from passing out. Time passed, and the world leveled out. I stood up again and walked over to my bike. As crazy as it sounds, I think I actually looked over my bike for damages. I picked it up by the stem and started to walk out. I only made it about ten steps before the pain forced me to stop, buckle over and rest my head on my stem. I had to hold on. It continued on that way: ten or so steps, stop, get it together, another ten more, and on. Where's Matt? That question kept running through my head. Had he seen me crash and rushed off to get medical attention? Where the hell was he? I have no idea how long it took me to reach the road. Time was standing still. I was enclosed in a bubble of agony. I passed by a couple of houses with people and kids outside. Their expressions, their words, neither penetrated my bubble. They floated by me as in a dream. I felt like a ghost passing through the land of the living; I could see them, but they appeared oblivious to me, oblivious to my suffering. I reached the road, dropped by bike, and crumpled to the ground. Where was my rescue? Cars passed by, but I remained trapped in my bubble. My eyes peered down the road looking for Matt's truck. It didn't appear. I so wanted to cry, but couldn’t. I was going to have to walk all the way. It seemed a monumental distance. Like before, I clenched my teeth, pulled myself off the ground, picked up my bike, and started walking. It hurt so much, everything throbbed, sharp bolts of pain were shooting throughout my entire body, but all I could manage were whimpers. I continually doubted that I could make it, but I kept going. Twice I had to sit down and force myself to get it together, and keep going. One guy looked out his car window with a concerned look. All I managed a weak "help". He just drove on. It hurt. It hurt so much. I didn't know it at the time, but the fracture on my right forearm was resting directly on the buckle on my sternum strap. It felt as if my arm were resting on a knife blade. I have no idea how long it took me to reach Devi's Corner, the restaurant where cyclist would meet before and after rides. It seemed like hours. My guess is that it took around thirty minutes. Matt was there waiting. He had thought he had seen me out of the corner of his eye take a different trail out. His eyes bugged out as I walked up. I'm not sure my exact words, but they were something about the hospital and needing to go that instant. Matt jumped up, grabbed his bike and mine and rushed over to his house, which was just across the street and up a couple of blocks. I sat down in the grass and a couple of the Malaysian riders, Timmy and Kio, who had been sitting with Matt, helped me to take off my helmet. It should have only taken a few minutes for Matt to get to his house and back with his truck. The minutes ticked by, but no Matt. I kept crying out in pain and asking where he was. All I could think about was getting to the hospital, and getting the pain to stop. Finally, Timmy and Kio asked me if I wanted them to take me. It was the first clear thought in my head: yes, I wanted to go! They helped me into the passenger seat, and I'd swear we hit every red light. They were great. They kept telling me approximately how much time left before we would reach the hospital. It seemed like an eternity. When we reached the emergency room, Kio jumped out of the back seat and rushed in to get me immediate attention

.

The nurses put me on a bed, asked me a few questions about my medical history, gave me an injection, and started to clean off the minor, superficial wounds on my arms and legs. The injection was doing nothing for my pain. The nurses had to cut the right shoulder strap on my Camelbak because there was no way that I could move my arm. Next, they gingerly got a sling around it to hold it in place. There was a delay in getting me checked in, and I started to get scream at the nurses to get me into x-ray. The pain wasn't subsiding. The doctor came over and asked if I wanted another injection. Again my mind was absolutely clear in thought: hell yes I wanted another!

Taking the x-rays was excruciating. I kept yelling at the technician that I couldn't move my arm into the positions he wanted. It wasn't until I was done with the x-rays that the painkillers finally started to kick in. Matt and his girlfriend Tini had showed up by then and got me fully checked in.

The results of my x-rays were not good. I had fractured my right forearm and the 4th rib on my right side, shattered my right elbow, and punctured my right lung. The puncture wasn't a major one. Had it been, my lung would have likely collapsed back in the jungle, but it was enough to create a trapped pocket of air in my chest.

Under different circumstances the news would have been more devastating, but I was just relieved that the pain had ceased. The reality that I would be off my bike for three months wouldn't sink in until much later.

I was then given the choice of having the surgery performed there, or going to see a specialist. I was very fortunate that Matt knew a guy who had good luck with a surgeon who fixed his broken wrist after another doctor had messed up setting it. I was further blessed that Matt was able to contact him, and that he'd come in to see me. So Matt and Tini put me in his truck and drove me over to the other hospital to see the specialist.

I met Dr. Ranjit and was given the choice of having the surgery done that day with only the emergency room staff, or waiting till the next day and having a full operating room staff present. The wait wouldn't alter the outcome, and so long as they kept the painkillers coming, I was going to make it. I decided to wait, so they put a temporary cast on my arm to prevent it from getting bumped while I slept.

For the first time in my life I was put in a wheelchair, and wheeled up to my room. Matt, Tini, and I were surprised at how nice the room was. If it weren't for the medical bed and all the complicated looking medical machines, it looked like a standard room in any regular hotel. Matt and Tini hung around for a while to make sure that I was okay and settled in. After they left the nurses put a bag around my cast so that I could take a shower. Even doped up on painkillers, it was very painful, but it felt good to be clean.

I was been trading e-mails with a reporter, Usha Devi, from Malaysia's leading newspaper, The Star, and had finally work out a time to meet for an interview: my interview had been scheduled for that day. I had Matt call her to tell her what happened and that I wouldn't be making it. I was surprised when she called my room and asked if it would be okay for her to come to the hospital for the interview. There were enough painkillers pumping through my body, and the company was welcomed, so I told her to come on down. A half hour later she showed up with her photographer in tow. I didn't take very good photographs because I kept smiling.

I didn't sleep well that night, and was awake when the nurse brought in my breakfast at six. It was the last thing I could eat or drink before my surgery that was scheduled for twelve-thirty. Time ticked by slowly, but the time finally arrived. I didn't know what to think. I had never been in a hospital before. I was alone. I was scared. I looked outside before getting in the wheelchair. The doctor had told me that there could be complications because of my punctured lung, and it had me worried. Would it be my last look out a window? On the way to the operating room, the hallways seemed longer than when I was being wheeled up to my room from the Emergency Room. They were probably over dramatic thoughts, but I was alone and going into the unknown. I could feel my eyes getting watery.

They put me on the operating table, put an injection into the catheter in my top of my hand, put the oxygen over my mouth, and that's the last thing I remember. The next thing I know, I hear my name and open my eyes to see the nurse standing over me. My first question was if I have a chest tube. The doctor had said that there was a possibility that I would need one. I was relieved when she told me I didn't.

It was a groggy, dreamy ride back up to my room. The nurses got me transferred to my bed, made sure all the machines that I was connected to were operating properly, and then left me to rest. It was devastating to look at myself with two tubes coming out of my left arm and some monitor clipped to my middle finger on my right hand. The surgery took five and a half hours.

Matt, Tini, Pete McQuade and his girlfriend Melissa Lee came by a few hours later to look in on me and bring me some clothes, toiletries, books and magazines from Matt's house. A while later Usha came back by to see how I was doing. It was great to see them! Usha stayed after the rest of them left. Throughout the night I faded in and out. Each time I came to, it was great to see her smiling face. We'd talk for a while and then my eyelids would seemingly fill with lead. I'd try to hang on and stay awake, but whatever was coming through the tube connected to my arm was stronger than me. She could see it, and ask, "you’re going aren't you?” When that would happen, about all I could do was nod. Each dream was a drug-induced sequel to Fantasia, full of swirling shapes and colors, and images beyond comprehension. At times I'd be looking around my room only to find that my eyes were closed. Other times I'd find myself walking or flying through strange lands. At times I could control the dreams, and at others times, they'd control me.

The nurse would come in during the night, every hour or half-hour, I'm not sure, to either check on me or to give me injections through the catheter in my hand. Sometimes I'd be conscious when she came in, other times I'd be half conscious, and I'm assuming she came in at times when I was out.

I was happy when morning came. I was hoping that they'd take the tubes out of my arm at that point. They didn't.

I'm not someone who deals well with having other people do things for me. So I hated that I had to push the buzzer to summon the nurse if I needed anything. When the nurse came in to ask if I wanted to take a shower, I thought it meant that they were going to take the tubes out. No such luck. What I got was a sponge bath, which under different circumstances could have been much more enjoyable, but not so much having it done in a hospital bed. At least it got me clean.

During the rest of my time in the hospital I tried to read the magazines and book that Matt brought me, but I lacked the concentration. The only thing I was able to read in full was the news article that Usha wrote. I spent my time sleeping, watching TV, staring out the window, and eating. The food was actually quite good - I was surprised.

It was the strangest thing. Nurses and other hospital staff were often coming in and out, and I got used to their presence, so I didn't always open my eyes to see who it was. There were times, though, when I'd be laying there with my eyes closed and I'd either hear someone or feel someone moving around my room, and when I would open my eyes, there'd be nobody there. It was spooky. Not scary, just spooky.

The nurses were great, and I feel bad because I know I got testy with them at times. As I said, I'm not too good with people doing things for me. All and all, the nurses were fantastic. I'm glad that the crash happened in Malaysia, the healthcare was first-rate - though I would have much preferred that the crash hadn't happened.

I'm also very thankful for all the people who came by to cheer me up: Pat Brundson (the guy who had cut the trail out of the jungle) and his wife Melissa Tan, and Ralf Macchaus and his girlfriend Shi-Fun Foon. My fractured my rib made it hurt to laugh, so I did my best to stifle them. However, there was little I could do to stop from laughing when Pat told me that a few hours after my accident, he slammed into a monkey on the same section of trail I crashed on. Btw: the monkey wasn’t harmed.

After three and a half days in the hospital, I was elated when the doctor came in and said that I could be released. It wasn't to long after that my world came crashing in. I got a call from Jamie's and my insurance company to inform me that my policy had expired. I was devastated. But at least I was getting out of the hospital. I'd have to deal with the insurance issue later.

I had to spend another week at Matt's house while I waited to make sure that my lung was okay to fly. My sister hooked me up with some of her frequent flyer miles so that I could recover at our parent's house just south of Seattle, Washington - just another prime example that I've got the world's best big sister. It was a long week. At least Usha came over at times to hang out and keep me company.

Matt helped me pack my bike and stuff, and gave me a ride to the airport. For someone who I had only met a few months before, I'm so thankful for his friendship, and his help was above and beyond. I look forward to seeing him and all the other friend's I made in Kuala Lumpur when I head back there once my arm and rib are fully healed.