I'm nearly there! I was squealing to myself, I've made it! I've ridden across Africa!
The bike gave a little splutter, but I didn't take much notice. It had been running fine for the last 10,000 thousand miles and I had the utmost faith in it. Then it spluttered again, as if it was running out of fuel, but it couldn't be- I had filled up only a few miles back. But like a painfully predictable scene in a bad sitcom, fifty yards from the Cape of Good Hope it gave one final splutter and ground to a halt.
I couldn't believe what was happening. Of all the places to conk out! I dismounted and started investigating, but there was nothing obviously amiss. There was plenty of petrol in the tank; I pulled off the fuel hose and it was coming through fine, pouring out all over the ground. I quickly shoved it back on before I created an environmental disaster. The electrics were fine, the battery was good, I had ignition, the engine was turning over, but nothing was happening. I fiddled with a few more things and had another go at starting it, but to no avail. Again, the engine turned over, coughed, spluttered and died. After repeating this pitiful process a few times, I resigned myself to the sad truth that I would be pushing my bike to the tip of Africa.
Red Tape And White Knuckles Lois Pryce p404