Beyond the jam; discovering the rhythm in Bangkok’s traffic

Bangkok’s peak hour traffic. Picture by @natureofholland at Instagram


If I had to name what I enjoyed most on my road trip, it would be riding in the peak hour traffic of Bangkok. It was not something I had expected to enjoy, being more worried about my physical stamina than anything else. Yet, to my surprise, when I re-entered the city for a second time—this time passing by the historic Ayutthaya in the north—I found myself joyful, exhilarated even.

Something curious popped out at me after riding daily in Thailand for almost three weeks now. Despite the insane amount of traffic in the cities, not to mention the long hours of jam, there was a surprising absence of anxiety, stress or road rage. Cars just cruise along at the speed of the traffic, without honking or cutting each other off. There was a calmness, a flow to it all that was very different from the tense and strung driving culture I was used to in Singapore, one where every driver seemed to be in a constant battle to outdrive the next.

I couldn’t pinpoint this ease I was feeling but if I had to use a word to describe it, it would have to be harmony. There almost seems to be an invisible teamwork involved, one that required no words, with each vehicle in complete sync with the next. It reminded me of the coordinated teamwork that bees or ants have when going about in a hive, each one working in perfect cooperation and synchronicity without the need for words. 

If traffic is any personification of a city’s temperament, then the Thais must be among the most laid-back people in South East Asia. In the entire month of riding, I had only heard a single honk, and that was coming from a Porsche. Yet back in Singapore for only two days, I heard it—the entitled and demanding honk. I was even cut off by a car! How is it that a country with more jam-packed traffic, poorer road conditions and less safety barriers than ours, can be more enjoyable and relaxing to ride in?

Bangkok’s notorious traffic congestion might intimidate some, but for motorbikes, it’s a thrilling playground with the privilege to slip between lanes. Yet, this freedom requires a deep responsiveness to the unspoken rules of the road—hesitation could spell trouble, making me more than just a minor inconvenience on the road. My solution? Follow the trail of Grab delivery riders as they dodged through the traffic! These people knew exactly where to go and how to get there. If they could pass certain tight spaces, so could I. I laughed heartily to myself as I placed my full trust in an entire snaking trail of delivery riders and became one with the flow, weaving deftly through the lanes with an exhilaration that felt like I was playing a high-stakes computer game. I laughed aloud at the absurd joy of it all.

Riding gives me a sense of liberation, that regardless of the barriers on the road, I could easily overcome insurmountable obstacles. The freedom to move independently and the ability to exist outside of the flow, would forever be one of the reasons why I love riding. Of course, my Triumph Street Triple RS 765 is my steadfast companion on this journey. Its high-spec performance, good mid-range torque and responsive Brembo brakes allowed me to navigate sharp turns and tight spaces with confidence. The Ohlins suspension made even sudden maneuvers feel seamless. It’s a beast of a bike and it has served me impeccably.

As I reflect on my time riding through Bangkok's buzzing streets, I realise that this journey wasn't just about navigating traffic or conquering urban chaos—it was about discovering a rhythm, a flow and a sense of harmony beyond the usual roadblocks of life. Riding in Thailand taught me something invaluable, that freedom is not merely the absence of constraints, but the ability to adapt, trust and dance with the currents around us, that it isn’t always about winning or coming out on top but about working together in harmony. 

In Bangkok, I didn’t just survive peak-hour traffic—I thrived in it. I learned to trust the unspoken language of the road, to appreciate the quiet cooperation of strangers and to embrace the pure joy of being fully present in the moment. Sometimes, the real lessons come not from stopping, but from moving forwards with intention and trust. 

To ride is to live, and to live is to flow. And for that, I will forever carry the spirit of Bangkok’s peak-hour traffic in my heart.

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An uncertain return; impending floods and erratic weather in Hatyai

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Dancing between spaces; my return journey to the unpredictable south