Travel story: Riding a motorcycle across Vietnam with Cynthia (Zetravelerz)

“Vietnam?” Cynthia hesitated for about as long as it took her Cambodian visa to expire. Then she booked a flight, filed an urgent online visa request, and landed in Ho Chi Minh City with one clear idea: a solo roadtrip on two wheels—without even having a manual motorcycle license.

This is her first-person account: the split-second decision, the chaotic first meters in Saigon traffic, the unexpected kindness on the roadside—and the addictive freedom of crossing Vietnam from south to north on a small, iconic bike.

“So… Vietnam or not?”

Cynthia: My Cambodian visa was ending, and I had to decide fast. In a few minutes, I went from “maybe” to “I’m going.” Three days before leaving Cambodia, I applied for my Vietnam visa online in a rush, booked my flight, and figured I’d work the rest out once I landed.

On June 30th, 2015, I flew from Phnom Penh to Saigon. I’d been obsessed with the idea of traveling by motorcycle in Vietnam. The thing is: when I travel, I usually rent scooters—not motorcycles—because I don’t have a motorcycle license.

I started scanning listings on a specialized website to estimate the budget. Most bikes were in the $250–$350 range. The more I looked, the more I thought: This looks incredible… but how am I supposed to ride that? I didn’t even know what to check before buying a bike.

So I asked my friend Max—he’d ridden in India and Nepal. His main advice was simple: trust your instincts. He was right.

The day she bought her bike in Vietnam

Cynthia: I contacted two sellers—both backpackers—and booked both meetups on the same day.

The first motorcycle didn’t inspire any confidence. Too many repairs were needed. I already knew I wouldn’t buy it, but I still wanted to try it to understand what “riding a manual bike” really felt like.

After one lap as a passenger, I went for it… alone… right in the middle of Ho Chi Minh City traffic, having never ridden a manual motorcycle before. Total chaos. My heart was racing because I was learning the clutch and gears while trying not to cause an accident. I stalled, couldn’t restart, stalled again—right in the road.

I told the seller honestly I had another appointment and promised to get back within two hours.

Then I met Sergio, a Colombian traveling with his wife and brother. The moment I saw his bike, I knew it was mine.

I tried to look calm so I could negotiate (I still managed to save $10). Sergio was genuinely kind—we’re still in touch. He explained everything he’d fixed (most of it sounded like another language to me), and he took me on the back so I could focus on the engine sound and learn by listening and following instructions.

This time, with a bike in good condition, everything changed. The gears shifted smoothly. The sound hooked me. And suddenly I thought: Okay… I can do this.

After about 1.5 to 2 hours, I closed the deal. $270 later, I owned a bike that was about to become one of the strongest memories of my life.

It was a Honda Win 100 (many are replicas, but that’s not a big deal—Vietnamese mechanics know them well and they’re common on the road).

I won’t lie: every red light stressed me out. Finding neutral, not stalling, restarting smoothly… it felt like a test each time. But you learn fast. And once you’ve stalled enough times, it becomes—almost—easy.

The day she actually left: Vietnam on two wheels

Cynthia: Departure was the next day. Backpack strapped to the rear rack, I had one last challenge: leaving my tiny alley. I stalled twice in the first 300 meters. Then came downtown Saigon again, loud and relentless. Finding the way out took effort—but when I finally escaped the city, I screamed inside my helmet. I was doing it.

I didn’t realize yet how big it would become: a solo ride of about 3,385 km, from Ho Chi Minh City to Sapa, finishing in Hanoi.

Weather quickly raised the stakes. I rode through heavy rain more than once. At first, I didn’t want to ride in torrential downpours, but during my month on the road it rained a lot. So I chose: go, but go careful. I was often soaked even with a poncho—but I made it through.

What shook me most was seeing accidents almost daily. Rain or not, Vietnam’s roads can be dangerous. Even riding cautiously, I had a few real scares. But that’s also why I felt proud: each day, I handled more than I thought I could.

Road conditions? Everything. Smooth stretches, rougher sections, busy urban chaos, quieter countryside. I shared more details about that variety on my blog: this article.

I rode completely alone for four days. Then I met two other travelers, including a German rider who stayed with me for the rest of the trip. I was comfortable solo, but I loved having company—because the magic doubles when you can share it. I smiled under my helmet constantly. Sometimes I literally shouted with joy while riding.

And when small problems happened, there was help. Vietnamese people were consistently kind to me. Even without a shared language, someone would step in. As a woman traveling alone, I didn’t have major issues—there was almost always a hand reaching out when I needed it.

That’s what this roadtrip gave me: freedom, yes—but also a feeling that I was never completely on my own.

Planet Ride tip (cadence, not speed)

On a first long ride—especially if you’re learning a manual bike—plan shorter riding days at the beginning. The goal isn’t to “cover kilometers,” it’s to arrive with enough focus left to handle the last 30 minutes (often the trickiest: city entries, fatigue, low visibility in rain).

The day she left Vietnam

Cynthia: Leaving was hard. Too many goodbyes at once: my bike (you get attached—really), Vietnam itself (the people, the food, the landscapes… everything), and my German companion.

That month was intense and deeply enriching. I cried when I left—but I knew I’d come back. The freedom of traveling by motorcycle made me addicted. It’s the best way I found to slip away from mass tourism while still experiencing Vietnam’s iconic places.

If you love motorcycles and freedom: do it. Forget the bus—choose the bike if adventure calls you. I wanted to encourage anyone who doubts themselves. Remember: I had never ridden a manual motorcycle before this trip—and I still crossed the country.

Stay connected with Cynthia via her newsletter: here. And if you want her deeper posts on riding Vietnam, start with: this one and her purchase story: here.

À savoir aujourd’hui

This story remains a powerful reminder of how quickly skills build on the road—and how intense Vietnam can be in traffic and rain. If you plan to ride Vietnam now, verify current visa rules, local riding-license expectations for rentals/purchases, and insurance coverage before you commit.