I had been posting regular updates of my trip on Facebook. I am a member of quite a few bike related pages (Suzuki Owners, GS1100 owners, GSX/GS1150 Appreciation Page and so on) and there was this one guy back in the UK who latched on to me and my solo navigations. He started suggesting routes for me and helped me plan my journey home. He seemed to be available at just the right time when I needed advice or a route suggestion. It was a great help and I loved that I was being mentored in such a fashion.
He was sharing with me all about his trips in France and suggesting routes. I was sharing my journey with someone who had been there and done it all before. It was a comforting and entertaining use of social networking especially as the guy turned out to be an expert on electronics and Suzuki GS motorbikes. The journey home was turning out not to be as lonely as I thought and a good deal more entertaining with our Facebook updates and chats at each stop off.
I hit the motorways hard, keeping in the 80 to 90 mph range. Pushing the bike to a higher average speed than at any time previously. I had already put in the spare half litre of oil I had brought with me and I was conscious of the fact I was now entering the zone where this had probably been consumed and I was again getting to a low oil level. I was up to about 1,600 miles on this trip and had added the oil around the 1,000 mile mark. Pulling into service stations and slowing down for tolls, I swear I could hear knocks, rattles and noises I had never heard before. Was this from lack of oil or was my imagination playing up on me?
Not only was I now pushing the bike at a pace where I felt it was being tested but my own endurance and sanity was also being tested. My body and mind were beginning to tingle along with the vibrations of the motor. I was moving into that semi-zombie like state, which I had only experienced once before. That was doing an all-nighter, biking across the Prairies of Canada back in my youth. It’s that sort of state that your mind and body enters when you have thought all your thoughts and there is nothing else to think about except the road ahead.
My Facebook buddy was sending me mileage reports and estimated times of arrival and the port of Calais. If I just focused and kept going I could even make it that night. But there was something else too, that started to take over from this fixation to complete the journey. Something that would continually take my attention, divert my eyes and cause my mind to start a new trajectory of thought. For some unknown and inexplicable reason (perhaps it was because I had moved into an elevated level of vibrations due to my increased speed) one of the two screws holding the speedometer facia down decided to unwind and eject itself into the space between the facia and the speedometer glass. This happened over a 120 mile section of motorway and there it was jiggling around under the glass screaming at me to notice it.
This little screw started to do things inside that speedometer that were simply unbelievable. I discovered that if I held the engine at just the right number of revs, the silly little thing could be made to move around the outside edge of the speedometer in an anti-clockwise manner. I could get it to the 3 o’clock position, which equated to 75 mph on the dial, before it would hit the speedometer needle and be forced back down. It was a great game to play to see how far I could get it to move up the face before it met the needle coming in the opposite direction.
However hard I tried, it was almost impossible to ignore this new distraction. I realised that it was a hazard and compromised my attentiveness to the road ahead but at the same time it was an entertaining little game that helped while away the time and take the focus away from my aching back, tingling feet and sore butt.
Within what seem like a fairly short time, even though I had now been in the saddle for 7 hours, I was seeing sign posts to the Port of Calais. My destination was in sight. I could taste it now. Even a lose speedometer screw would not divert me fully from my purpose. It was to be; home or bust.
Next part: Part 13
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