Motorcycle Quote of the Day

[Biggles]

In moments of fear, time can seem to freeze or go into slow-motion, but in this instance, the opposite happened. Everything moved quickly, like a film on fast-forward. They were racing towards me gabbling as if the sound had sped-up too, their arms outstretched, holding something I could not make out. My fear turned to anger and I started shouting and swearing at them to leave me alone. I'd done too much of this lately, too much shouting and swearing. I was sick and tired of it all, sick and tired of being alone and exposed, intimidated and stared at, and these guys were going to feel the full force of my anger and fear. I yelled at them again to back off. Then I saw them shaking their heads, their faces breaking into great dazzling smiles, their eyes eager, sparkling with excitement. And then I saw what they were holding in their hands. And I cringed.
The younger man stopped in front of me. He was skinny and ragged, visibly poor. He spoke a few words of English.
"We see you. We like to speak with you. We have food for you."
He thrust two bags of fruit into my hands. The older man had bottles of water for me.
"Welcome... to... Iran," said the older man carefully, as if he had been practising the phrase for the last two miles.
Revolutionary Ride  Lois Pryce pp217-8

[Biggles]

As I left Yazd, I was aware that I was embarking on the final leg of my Iranian adventure. Shiraz, the city that had been calling me for so many months and thousands of miles, was finally in sight, no longer a mysterious faraway place but an achievable goal, just 300 miles away now. I allowed myself the thought that I really was going to make it.
Wanting to make the most of every precious day of my visa, reluctant to retrace any of my route back north to the Turkish border, I had planned to end my journey in Shiraz with just enough time to ship my bike home from there. My final plans were still undecided, and I mulled them over as I studied my route to Shiraz, plotting a purposely meandering course for my final days on the road. I settled on a network of back-country roads which took me over a vast dry lake bed, its salt crystals sparkling in the sun, before crossing a flat, rocky plateau with the remains of ancient forts and abandoned wells dotted along the roadside.
Revolutionary Ride  Lois Pryce p241

[Biggles]

My heart gave its usual thud as I spotted a police car full of uniformed officers parked by a set of traffic lights. Did the Shiraz police force also live up to this laidback reputation? My thudding heart sank as the lights turned red, forcing me to sit there, next to the police car, while the traffic streamed and weaved across the junction in front of me for what felt like an age. But the police weren't interested in me. It was the fruit seller next to them was staring, mouth agape. He edged closer, eyebrows knitting in bemusement that verged on disbelief. I did my best to ignore him. Then he turned to the police, waving to attract their attention, then back to me again. I stayed focused on the road ahead, a nervous jiggle taking over my leg as I silently urged the lights to change. Hassle with the Iranian police was the last thing I needed at the end of my journey.
Red turned to green and I pulled away with a spurt of nervous throttle, glancing back over my shoulder. The fruit seller was pointing after me, and now he had the policemen's attention, they had stepped out of the car. I just caught the amazement in his expression and the laughter erupting on the policemen's face as the fruit seller pointed after me, made the universal motorcycle throttle action and then squeezed an imaginary pair of breasts on his chest. As I disappeared into the turmoil of Shiraz traffic, I noted with pleasure that his fruit stall had consisted of nothing but an enormous pile of melons.
Revolutionary Ride  Lois Pryce p254

[Biggles]

I looked on Google Maps to work out distances and get a rough idea of how long it would take us to get from town A to town B. I guess anyone who knows how to use a computer uses Google Maps when planning any kind of trip; there's no disputing the fact that they're a huge asset. The problem is that, for time and distance planning, they work things out on the basis of, 'It's 153 km from Mumbai to Pune on a new expressway. Travelling at an average speed of around 70-75 kph, it will take about two hours to go from Hotel A in Mumbai to Hotel B in Pune'. It's a reasonable calculation, if all goes well, and that's probably approximately how long the expressway part of the journey will take you. But... what hasn't been factored into the equation are the two hours it'll take you just to get out of Mumbai, and the other hour you'll be driving round Pune in ridiculous traffic trying to find Hotel B. Consequently, the reality is that your journey of 153 km is going to take more like five or six hours. The sun goes down at 6 p.m., so, because you left Mumbai at a time commensurate with the expectation of the journey taking three hours max, you'll be driving into Pune at dusk, when the traffic is even more dangerous than it is at every other time of the day- none of which we knew when we were planning the India Ride.
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p18

[Biggles]

For reasons of cost, we always tried to stay two people to a room, but the hotel in Shimla had only four single rooms, each of which contained a damp bed, a DIY shower that basically consisted of a bucket and a spoon, a very nasty bath tub, an even nastier toilet, and, in the case of my room, a discarded condom wrapper. We were exhausted; all we wanted was to have a shower in a clean bathroom, eat, and then fall asleep in a comfortable bed, which made finding ourselves in a hotel like that even more disheartening than it might otherwise have been. It wasn't a great start to our journey.
We were paying what, in India, amounted to a fairly substantial price for those rooms, certainly enough to expect there to be soap and shampoo in the bathroom. So I was irritated when I had to call down to reception to ask for some. A few minutes later, I was standing butt naked in the shower, trying to wash off the day's grime by ladling cold water from a bucket over my head, when I heard the bedroom door open. Before I'd had a chance to react, a guy walked into the bathroom and handed me some soap!
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p41

[Biggles]

Then, as we dropped down out of the mountains, the traffic became heavier. It was mostly trucks and massive lorries rather than local cars; but the vehicles we really had to watch out for were the buses, whose drivers seemed to have no concept of cause and effect and no fear of death.
In addition to the bus drivers, we had torrential rain to contend with- and all the potential hazards that come with it. Some 90% of the rain that falls in Rajasthan does so between July and September, when the arid, low-lying desert region is transformed into a raging torrent of flood water; we had a small taste of what that was like when we were there. As we drove across the seemingly endless, flat landscape, we could see the rainstorms coming toward us while they were still some distance away. We'd watch the sky slowly darken and then, just before the first massive raindrops began to fall, we'd stop and put on our rain suits. For the next forty minutes after we set off again, we'd barely be able to see the road in front of us.
Riding in torrential rain on any road surface in any conditions is dangerous and tiring. Riding in torrential rain on roads that are being constantly and randomly crossed by cows and, now, camels, as well as by bicycles and tuk-tuks that are vying for road space with the trucks and buses, is lethal.
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p72

[Biggles]

So when you finally arrive at the hotel, knowing that all the things you've been imagining for the last few exhausting hours are now just a few steps away, on the other side of a set of glass doors, and then you look up to find a security guard standing in front of you like some belligerent St Peter at the gates of heaven, you tend to lose your cool. Every time it's happened, it's almost as if some switch flicks on inside my head, making me absolutely determined that I'm going to do this thing my way.
Where discrimination against motorcycles and motorcyclists exists, it tends to be non-specific: I'm sure if Tom Cruise rode up to one of these hotels riding the most expensive motorcycle money can buy, he'd be told exactly the same thing as we were told- "No two wheels allowed at hotel entrance." What I actually heard every time it was said to us was, "If you're on a two-wheeler, you're a second-class citizen. So park your bike over there!"
Colin and I would arrive at the hotels very tired and dirty and the last thing we wanted on those occasions was to get embroiled in some ridiculous, frustratingly pointless argument. The more often it happened, the more it mattered to me, and the more I wanted to shout at the guy, "Get out of my way and let me check in!"
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p103

[Biggles]

When you're stuck in traffic doing 10 kph in the sort of temperatures we were experiencing, the air flowing through the ventilation system in your motorcycle jacket is incredibly hot. And when your body's already cooking and you can barely breathe, your mind isn't as sharp as it would otherwise be, which is a real problem at any speed when kids and dogs and cattle and tuk-tuks are constantly testing fate right in front of you.
At 5 o'clock in the afternoon on day 24, Colin and I pulled over to the side of the road to drink some water and try to breathe. A few minutes later, as Chad and Dan pulled in behind us, I suddenly felt the last remnants of energy drain out of me. We'd been locked for days in a relentless battle against the suffocating heat, the horrific road conditions, and the chaotic, unremitting, incredibly dangerous traffic. There wasn't any part of my body that didn't ache and I couldn't think of one single positive aspect of what we were doing. Foolishly perhaps, I told myself that nothing could possibly happen that would make things any worse. Completely shattered, I lay down on the dusty ground beside the SUV and fell instantly into a deep, exhausted sleep. I don't think anything short of a full-scale hurricane would have kept me awake at that moment.
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p127

[Biggles]

Perhaps it's because Indians have a different concept of time that they tend to be so patient. I don't mind waiting for a legitimate reason- if there's an accident, for example- but having to wait for a stupid reason makes me mad. All it needs when there's road construction is for someone to put up a traffic light so that cars going in one direction have right of way for five minutes, and then cars going in the other direction have priority. They don't do that in India, so it ends up in a potentially lethal game of chicken before it all grinds to a halt and no one goes anywhere. I guess even if someone did put up a traffic light, the drivers wouldn't take any notice of it unless the police were there to enforce it, which is unlikely, as no one ever seems to enforce anything in India.
I sound bitter and negative, I know; I don't want to be particularly when there were so many incredibly positive and heart-warming aspects of India and we met so many amazing people there. It was just that being stuck in a completely unnecessary traffic jam was infuriating and epitomized another, totally unfathomable, face of a country of many contrasts and contradictions. But I suppose people everywhere do stupid things that seem inexplicable to the people who do different stupid things, because we all do something stupid, whether it's smoking, drinking too much, or jumping off a mountain attached to a parachute and to some guy you've just met and about whom you know absolutely nothing!
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  pp150-1

[Biggles]

For nearly eight weeks, we'd been tested on a daily basis by physical illness, mental exhaustion, crazy traffic, and intense heat- on many occasions, almost to breaking point. Making our way round India on motorcycles had been a grand idea, and I think there was a part of me that was amazed- and perhaps surprised- that we'd actually made it. It was a good feeling, knowing that we'd set ourselves a difficult task and we'd completed it, safely and, in the end, efficiently. By the time we were standing once again at the India Gate, we felt pretty confident that we could do almost anything we set our minds to doing.
When photographs had been taken and we'd got some film footage of the journey's end, we had a nerve-racking thirty- minute drive to the hotel, where Colin and I did our last video diaries, showered, ordered pizza, and went to bed at 8.30, shattered but jubilant.
The India Ride  Colin Pyle  p186

[Biggles]

There has been a month's recess as I have been reading other books.  I have two new ones to start excerpting, but there is a little holiday intervening.

[Biggles]

My nerves were at fever pitch. The date was set, and the only thing left to do was ship the bike to Toronto. This part, while expensive was easy. I dropped the bike off with James Cargo in London with all my kit about ten days before I was due to fly out. I had the rough timelines for the trip worked out, I wrote in my diary, "I plan to take 59 days to complete the USA and Canada leg. Fourteen days through Mexico, another fourteen through Central America and the rest in South America finishing hopefully in time tor Christmas!" I structured the journey this way because in my head I reckoned I could do North America again when I was fifty-five if I wanted to. The bigger challenge would be Central and South America so it would better to allocate the majority of time there.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  pp11-12

[Biggles]

I nicknamed the bike "Molly" which I later changed to Sam Gamgee, I was Frodo. What happened to Luke Skywalker? What happened to Han Solo? Well, I decided that I was going to be a mixture of Frodo, Conan, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Jason Bourne, James Bond and Frodo, and no I don't think that's too many heroes to combine into one persona. The week before I left, I completed the last mandatory task before undertaking any adventure, I went out on the rip. After about fifteen pints and multiple "You re gonna get raped by FARC rebels, you know that don't ya!" type statements from my mates, the last task before travelling was complete.
With my flight merely hours away, I sat on the couch in my sitting room drinking a cup of tea while looking out the window at the rain doing its best to break the glass. I asked myself "Am I ready?" I kept replaying a quote I'd read in my head, "The only way you'll ever be 100% prepared for a trip like this is to have done it before."
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p12

[Biggles]

It was here I had my first "nearly killed" moment. There were two big eighteen wheelers blocking the highway doing about 50mph, they were talking to each other as they were driving up the road and no one could get by. This went on and on for 40 miles or more and yours truly not being known for his patience, especially while getting the shit kicked out of him by both the wind and the turbulence from the juggernauts was quickly losing the rag. I decided to bomb up a very skinny hard shoulder to the right at close to 100mph and flew by the lads in the trucks, giving it a bit of "yee hawww!" in the process. Later, a couple who saw me passing the trucks on the road, came up to me at a filling station where I had stopped for lunch and said that the trucker swerved for me as I was passing on the inside. They had called the police. I had to spend an hour or so talking to the cops who had arrived before I knew it. Most of the time was just spent talking to them about where I was off to I didn't really want to bring up the fact that I used the hard shoulder as my own private race track. We chatted for a good while and to be honest I was glad of the company.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p37

[Biggles]

I arrived in Anchorage the next day with 23 days and 7,678 miles on the clock and started to find out about getting the bike serviced. At this point I was still in a work frame of mind, "Let's go, c'mon man got to make up the miles," so was looking for a pit stop to get the bike prepared for the Dalton highway rather than a place to hang out for a couple of days. It takes time to learn to how to relax, I think. About a week into the trip I started to get less worried about the time and after two weeks I had completely forgotten about it. As the third week had progressed I started to forget what day it was but I think a month had passed before I stopped thinking about schedules or distances and really started to just enjoy the ride and forget about the destination.
I didn't care for Anchorage, its a good city but its not why people go to Alaska. It's a town like every other town in the States so after spending three days there getting the bike fixed up I was more than ready to get going again. The highlight that sticks in the memory happened on a bus tour of the town. A girl tour guide told the bus that there were twice as many men living in Alaska as women which she qualified with "While the odds are very good for us women, unfortunately the goods very are odd!"
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  pp60-1

[Biggles]

Since I got the bike serviced in wanker-works near Calgary there was a rattle whenever I'd get towards 4000rpm. On a trip like this you're completely and utterly dependent on the bike, I had to bite the bullet and drive to a BMW dealer in Helena Montana, a day's ride of a detour all told. On top of that, I lost Rafael that day, he was in a bad mood as a result of some bad news from home about his business and I'm not sure that he didn't just want to be on his own anyway, one way or another I was back on my own and feeling more than a bit blue. I got to BMW in Helena and a guy called John, armed with a stethoscope came out and started using it to listen to the engine. Within about three minutes he'd found the source of the problem and five minutes later had it fixed. It is great see guys who really know their game in action. It was amazing how my mood tended to match the bike's condition; if the bike was in great shape I felt great, if there was anything wrong with it at all, I turned into a freak show.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p91

[Biggles]

Inadvertently I'd picked one of the most scenic areas to drive through in Northern Mexico, the Ruta Sierra. The scenery was top notch, but all I wanted to do was to get as far away from the border as possible, so if I'm honest I was a bit too nervous to enjoy it. The advice on Mexico I'd been given was that as long as you "Get the hell out of the border areas! you should be fine." The speed limit on the roads was 80kph, a speed most three legged donkeys could do, so I ended up ignoring the limit and tipping along at about a 100kph.
In the first day, I was stopped three times by customs, the army and finally the police and none of them were for speeding. The customs guy was checking for the motorcycle permit, the army was checking for drugs and while they were talking to me, were busy with two North American girls whose stuff was all over the road, and finally the police were just stopping me to say hello and wondered where I was from and then what football team I supported.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p111

[Biggles]

When I finally got to Oaxaca, I realized that one of my bags was gone. No doubt, it was shaken off due to all the bumps and potholes. What was in it? All my memory cards holding the pictures of the trip so far, my laptop, my journal where I kept all the trip logs, a copy of all my confidential information, Spanish books, maps and a copy of Lord of the Rings which I'd bought in Phoenix. I lost the rag completely, I had lost all the original records of the trip so far apart from what was posted on my blog site and I had no one to blame but myself. Its not like I didn't know the roads were crap there, but because it was raining I rushed packing up my stuff. I lost thousands of pictures of parts of the world I was unlikely ever to see again, it was a sore blow. Worse was to come.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p134

[Biggles]

The next morning started with a dose of the trots, Central American style. I woke up and had one of those "Three seconds to detonation" signals from my rectum, sprinting to the toilet and getting my arse hanging over the porcelain in the nick of time. For about thirty minutes, I was doing a fantastic impression of an upside down busted fire hydrant with intermittent machine gun fire. The whole time this was going on, in the hotel courtyard which all the rooms surrounded, the hotel pet parrot kept saying, "Hola!" "Hola!" As I sat there flexing my stomach muscles so my heart wouldn't plunge out along with the rest of my alimentary canal, I thought to myself "wheres a good oul cat when you need one?"
I gingerly packed up, every couple of seconds mournfully glancing at the toilet while trying to make sure there were no more fires in the hole. I left the room and as I opened the door I realized the bog window also faced out onto the courtyard where there were three or four old women having breakfast. They all gave me a sympathetic look while breathing in sharply through their teeth.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  pp151-2

[Biggles]

The people in the city are not that friendly, but that's the same in all cities I guess. It was obvious that people didn't seem to be happy. Hardly anyone seemed to smile. Now before someone chimes in with "if you smile at the world it'll smile back," I was in great form. I had the bike back so it wasn't me projecting a bad mood, but I was sure it would be a lot better in the countryside. After spending two days in Bogota I said to myself, "There is no way you'd ever come here if it wasn't because it's the only place in Colombia you can fly the bike into." My impression was that it's a dark, depressing, miserable sort of place. The paranoia on safety was also bit off-putting- the taxi guy and another lad in the hotel had put the fear of God into me, both recommended calling into the police in various towns to let them know you're there. I tried an Irish bar to see if there was anything going on, but no joy. On top of serving crappy food with Irish names, it had all the cheer of a freshly gelded bull.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p179

[Biggles]

I had learned my lesson from the first incident in Mexico. I had left at least fifteen feet of room in front of me to give me somewhere to go, and I had a lump hammer in my tank bag. The first lad showed up under the guise of begging and approached me on my left side. I was watching his friend closer who was circling to the right. I had replayed this situation in my mind a thousand times since Mexico, what would I do if it happened again? The guy on my right was carrying a big stick, nothing more. I wasn't too worried about the stick, the enduro suit with gloves and helmet left me well protected. With the bike in neutral, I kicked down the stand in anticipation of the guy on the left pulling at my side, and with my right hand whipped out the hammer and swung wildly, "Come near me and I'll do ya!"
The guy on the right then cracked the stick off my shoulder. I jumped off the bike and ran about ten steps towards him with the hammer lofted above my head, "Get away from me!" No sooner had I roared it when four of the folks who were in traffic behind me jumped out of their cars and ran for the two muck birds, who then ran off. There we were, me and a bunch of lads from Colombia shaking hands saluting our victory with about half a mile of traffic stopped behind us- it's a moment I'll never forget. As the horns started to go, we all headed off. As I was driving up the road at least ten cars beeped the horn at me as they passed. I felt like Thor!
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  pp194-5

[Biggles]

I stopped for lunch at a small roadside restaurant in the mountains (four tables with a tin roof) and the family took me into the back, sat me down at their table and made me lunch. None of them had a word of English but we got along great! The amazing thing was that these people survive on way less than fifty dollars a week and there they were sharing out the grub refusing to take any money from me. The Colombians are amazing. Imagine that, you're as poor as a church mouse and you're still sharing with a complete stranger. I just had to do something to return the favour so I made an excuse that I was meeting "mucho amigos" down he road and bought ten bottles of diet coke, crisps and chocolate bars from their shop. About twenty minutes down the road I met some folks on the side of the road and gave them the goodies, they looked as though all their birthdays had come together.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p203

[Biggles]

I left Copacabana early. I knew it was a short run to La Paz and I wanted to get there early and do a bit of sightseeing. As I was leaving the town, I was "clothes lined" by a police chain. I saw the check point but normally they just wave you through. It was cloudy and I was wearing sun glasses and as I hit the check point the chain hit the wind shield, then popped up off it and hit me knocking the crap out of my chest and throwing me off the bike. I wasn't going too fast but it hurt like a mother! I did my usual systems check, wriggle toes, ok, wriggle fingers, ok, put hand on lad, I can still feel it. I got up slowly, it felt like someone had dropped a cavity block on my chest. Sam Gamgee was fine as usual despite falling over on its side about eight yards down the road. After catching my breath and agreeing to go "Mas Despacio" (slower) I set off but there would be no cuddling of any women tonight, no change there so.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p252

[Biggles]

I drove north from Puerto Varas to Villarrica and cut east towards Bariloche in Argentina. I had reached my fifteenth and last country and the border crossing was a doddle.
The drive towards Bariloche would make you want to leave Ireland and move there instantly. The people living in this part of the world were spoilt rotten with incredible scenery. Snow capped mountains, rivers, blue crystal clear lakes, blue skies, no matter which way I looked I was confronted with an awesome display of nature at its finest. I was feeling like everything I'd done up to this point was merely"existing"! At last I was living, and I wished this day would never end.
Sure, I was on my own, but I was happy.
I then started to wonder how was it possible to be so down in the morning and so up by the afternoon. Do the ups always follow the downs? The darkest hour is just before dawn I suppose, but I wondered if I wasn't just a bit mental.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p293

[Biggles]

One near-death experience happened while I was over-taking a truck. If you can imagine a straight stretch of road about a mile long with a truck ahead of you throwing up bits of rocks hitting your wind shield and visor with a savage cross wind blowing from the right. There was another truck a good distance up the road on the left side. This was the sort of overtaking maneuver you would do twenty times a day out on the road, and even in the wind it wouldn't normally be a problem. As I passed the truck ahead of me on its left side and was coming round to go back into my "lane" the wind picked up a massive gale and I couldn't get myself back into my lane with the other truck coming right for me with the air horn blaring. There was nothing else I could do but gun the bike into the ditch on the left. Normally putting the bike in the ditch would be followed quickly by a ride in an ambulance, but the ditch on a gravel road is a gravel hollow with tons of spare gravel knocking around. Acting purely on instinct I rode the bike down the ditch at about 50mph, scooted along the bottom of the ditch gunning the bike down to second gear in the process, and steered it back up onto the road even taking the time to indicate and continued down the road. About a mile up the road, I pulled over and kicked down the side stand. I took off the helmet, glasses and gloves and as the realization of what had just happened came to me, it was all I could do to not throw up.
That I May Die Roaming  Oisin Hughes  p304