The bike bell chimed, initiated by the weakened wooden boards running along the rickety bridge,  I bounding along towards the other side of the river, trying to focus on the path ahead while simultaneously keeping tabs on the precarious situation below me.  It was a cool morning, my linen pants flapped faster than the speed at which I was cautiously crossing the Nam Khan. Bouncing along my eyes squinting as they adjusted to the low light at dawn, trying to avoid the flattened bike tire from spending too much time within the joints of the adjoining boards.  Wobbling over the threshold, I breathed an unintentional sigh of relief immediately as…