The Yam’s dance with the tarmac left it splattered on its side on the pavement, next to a line of lacerated, dented cages – at least having the decency to take out some of the new, expensive stuff with crumple zones that collapsed with little resistance, giving the bike an easy time.

Their drivers emerged en masse from whatever fantasies entertained them when entombed in the traffic. Sudden war-zone victims, shaken, decidedly not stirred, bug-eyed and out for a hanging. Road rage just didn’t come into it. The blast of malevolence and bad karma thrown in my direction enough to knock a weaker man senseless.

The obvious option to assume the worst and foot it out of there pronto. However, I could still hear the Yamaha’s engine burping away and the top-box was full of several hundred thousand baht’s worth of drugs. I flashed on the evening news’ headlines – drug crazed motorcycle maniac pursued through Bangkok by armed police… do not approach, believed to be highly dangerous. Followed by a vision of Somgrai tearing me limb from limb when he realised how I’d lost all his drugs.

Weaving, shouting, waving my arms around for all I was worth, I ran for the bike. Only one driver tried to get in my way but I slipped by him with all the verve of a desperate rugby player, turned and gave him a high velocity foot to his kneecap as he showed every intention of not giving up the chase.

Foolish man. For a moment, his screams drowned out both the bike’s engine and my own thoughts. His eyes a little crazy with the realisation that a farang had so rapidly and easily taken him out.

Lifted up the Yamaha like it was some tiny moped, threw a leg over the saddle, hit the clutch, gear lever and throttle in a flowing motion that would have won praise from the highest grade of athlete. The motor stuttered for a moment as the fuel flow stabilised, panic hit my brain as I thought it was going to stall but she caught, and that straightforward blast of, barely silenced, single cylinder stroker power was for an instant the sound of pure love, joy and harmony. F..k the world, I was going to make it!

The bars bent out of shape but the thing wailed away down the road, wobbling across a good yard of tarmac – the mass of damaged cages had left a vacuum, a clear ribbon of road along which we happily bounced and twitched, though I made damn sure I never applied such an excess of power that the front wheel left the ground. Neither the bike nor I were in any state for further madness.