I was seduced by the YouTube videos of vibrant, young, travel influencers who rented tuk-tuks in Sri Lanka and drove them all over the sunny, gorgeous island. It looked like fun. I checked out the rental company’s website. They said it was fun.  I chatted with someone on WhatsApp, who was fun, and I gave them my credit card number. I was excited. Fun!

The plan was simple. Fly into CMB airport. Get a quick driving lesson and hit the road. Simple.

I waited for a long time for my bag to appear on the baggage carousel. The tuk-tuk driver who was to take me to the rental place kept messaging and calling me. “Where are you? Are you coming out?” So I forgot to take the time to get cash from the atm at the airport (rookie mistake). I rushed out, and we got into his minivan (not into a tuk-tuk? Hmmm…). 

When I got to the tuk-tuk rental place, it became clear to me early on that driving a gas-powered tuk-tuk was going to be hard. My muscle memory wanted me to do certain things I have done on my cargo bike and in a manual transmission car that were not intuitive in a tuktuk. The clutch was where the brake was supposed to be. The brake was in an odd and uncomfortable place for my giant feet. The driving position was cramped and uncomfortable. I am 6-foot-4 and the average tuk-tuk driver is roughly half my weight and size. And even though a tuk-tuk can only go 40km an hour, that was fast enough to land me in the hospital or worse if I was not 100% sure of my driving abilities. Which I was not. I let the driving instructor know that it was not going to work. I let the sales person know I wanted to cancel. 

The manager of the tuk-tuk place got involved and told me I could not get a full refund and talked me into trying an electric tuk-tuk with an automatic transmission, and that solved some of the issues. But they did not have one I could drive away. They would deliver the vehicle to my guesthouse by the next morning. 

I should have said no at this point and cut my losses, but I had already paid for the rental and left a deposit. So I agreed. I got online and bought a $6 train ticket to Weligama on the southern end of the island, and hired an Uber to the train station. 

The Uber driver took a lot longer to get to me than the app had predicted, and when he arrived, he was in a pretty beat-up black Prius, but I jumped in. We got to talking, and he asked me where I was going. When I said, “Weiligama,” he said that he was going to drive through there after dropping me off, and for 6,000 Sri Lankan rupees, he would take me there. I said no, I already had a train ticket. But then I did the math. 6,000 rupees is only around $19 US. So I changed my mind and agreed to forego the crowded 4-hour train and hang out with him in his Prius for the 1 hour and 45 minute drive. I moved up to the front seat, where the failing AC was slightly better than in the back.

He stopped at a few places for gas, a smoke, some water, and to pee. I stayed in the car with my stuff.

He was an interesting character. Wiry and fidgety. Maybe a little sleep deprived. His name was Rashon. He had lived in Sri Lanka all his life, but with work stints in other countries. Divorced with a 7-year-old son, whom he sees once a month. I’m sure he could have taken me to a remote location to meet some of his friends to rough me up and take all my stuff, but that didn’t happen. But it still felt a little dangerous. 

He drove like a man impatient with the world, swerving around all slower vehicles. Which is to say, 99% of them. We almost had an accident with a car driven by someone who was perhaps even more impatient. After some aggressive driving and beeping by Rashon, that episode ended as quickly as it started. 

One of the conversations we had on the way was about how crazy the bus drivers were in Sri Lanka. They had no respect for other vehicles or lines painted on the road. You really had to be careful, or they would squash you flat. The tuk-tuk company’s YouTube videos mentioned this as well. Buses are crazy. Watch out for the buses. At this point, I was thinking that the risk/reward ratio of renting a tuk-tuk may not be in my favor. 

I did not want to be squashed flat. 

We got to the ATM, and both got out to get cash, but I got the feeling he didn’t have any in his account based on how much gas he bought on the way — maybe 150 rupees worth. He never did put his card in the machine. He was on empty when we got to my accommodations.

I paid him a little more than we had agreed upon, as neither of us had change. He smiled and disappeared before any change could be found. 
 
I was up early the next day, and I took a shower and went outside my room to inquire about coffee. The tuktuk delivery was taking longer than they told me it would, and I had not heard from them, so I texted. Turns out the driver was waiting for me at the wrong place, and he eventually arrived. But when he was about to hand over the tuktuk, we discovered that the vehicle needed a charge-up, and my accommodations offered no practical way to charge the vehicle with the cable that was supplied. 

The Weligama Bay Eco Villa owners — husband and wife, and really lovely people — got involved, and we tried to brainstorm a solution. The delivery guy called the main office. The office wanted to talk to me. We could not plug into a lower-wattage outlet with an adapter because the villa owner was worried about a fire. There was a suitable outlet, but it was in a room that was going to be rented out soon, and the cable they had would not reach it either way. Back at tuktuk HQ, they found a place where I could charge the vehicle 1-3 km away, and for an extra fee, they would hire someone to bring it to me each day, and for $75 more, they would pick up the tuktuk so I would not have to drive it all the way back to Colombo. I was being upsold. I felt pressured. 

The innkeeper brought out tea.

The whole ordeal was making me really anxious, and seeing how people drive on the island during my time with Rashon, I decided to pull the plug (no pun intended) even if it meant losing my deposit. 

This was supposed to be fun. And it sure wasn’t. 

I take full responsibility for this whole ordeal, and really, I don’t care about the rental money or the deposit (although when I told the innkeepers how much it was, they both gasped audibly). 

That said, I think the tuk-tuk place could have done a few things differently. 

They could have let me know that even though tuk-tuks look fun to drive, they are not for everyone. Certainly not for someone like me who has never driven a scooter or a motorcycle.* 

Instead of trying to sell me on the idea, they should have listened when I said I was a big person and I was worried that driving a tuk-tuk would be hard for me. (Just getting in and out was a comedy.)

They could have trained their people to see when someone is a good candidate for renting and when they aren’t. 

They could have contacted my guesthouse and asked about charging options. 

And instead of trying to “solve” every problem, they could have listened to me when I said I wanted to cancel. Instead, they exchanged one problem (a difficult-to-drive vehicle) with another problem (a difficult-to-charge vehicle). 

After the delivery guy took the tuk-tuk away, I went for a swim. And when I came back, I was physically relieved that there was no electric tuk-tuk in the driveway for me to worry about. 

Live and learn, people. With emphasis on the word “live.” I don’t have to drive an underpowered electric golf cart 175 kilometers on Wednesday when I need to leave the island, and my chances of being squashed flat by a bus are dramatically reduced. 

I wonder if Rashon can give me a ride back…

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*The only person who asked me if I had ever driven a scooter or motor bike before was the gentleman whose job it was to give me my driving lesson. When I said “no,” he paused. As if to say, “Uh oh, here we go again…”