A big thundercloud hovered about Doi Suthep, and a bolt of lightning struck with a resonating boom. But my friend and I head up into the hills anyway, and when we had climbed a thousand feet, the air was much cooler and fresher. The sun was struggling to make it through the clouds so the light was weird, it was like an eclipse was taking place, but it wasn’t. We rode along for two-thirds of the way up to the Hmong Village, and then some road construction had caused a massive mud wash over the road, red clay that was insanely slippery. His bike went down, breaking a mirror. I stopped and gingerly turned back. I got muddy, but both the bike and I remained uninjured. I’ve been down this same road five times now, and I never get tired of it. It’s a visual feast.