DAY BEFORE RIDE DEPARTURE: This morning I woke up thinking that something seemed a bit amiss. Ever had one of those moments? Before anything else, I quickly opened up the my last email from IMTBIKE (motorcycle rental company) and realized that, my rental motorcycle pickup date was yesterday and not today.
I look again and the date still didn’t change. Today is Saturday, the IMT BIKE rental place is closed on weekends, I screwed up but, surely, they must have an emergency contact number somewhere? Nope, nada zilch. Not even a courtesy phone call, email contact or text message was ever received by me.
Can you now say one jet lagged American! The IMTBIKE rental place is just down the road from the TH Boatilla hotel that we are staying at. I took a twenty minute walk; to see if there’s an emergency number on the door somewhere.
A drop now falls on me. I naturally look up. A bird? No bird. Just menacing dark clouds that soon engulf me.
As I continue walking towards an industrial warehouse park, I begin to take notice of three young tough looking Spaniards. Two are on one side of the street and one on the other side.
I now think Jack Reacher as in the movie with Tom Cruz. “I don’t like being followed.”
Reacher is a loner, a wanderer that travels around the US, by hitching or by taking the bus: it’s his way of life. And he only carries a toothbrush. Reacher can take the two on my left and I’ll take the one on the right.
I kneel down, grab a pocketful of sand that goes in my right pocket. Reacher would approve. We look at each other with wonder. To my amazement, I now realize that I am also not in the USA but, in a suburb of Madrid Spain.
It’s a Saturday morning and the three guys that probably don’t even know each other are on their way to work. Oh great. Now I have a pocket full of sand and no menacing hombres to put out of commission.
He is old, his pants are far too big for him, and he is now wearing Wolverines, waterproof cowboy boots from the Boot Barn.
His jeans are Klim and kevlar in material and strength, with added hip and knee protection. He wears a brown leather motorcycle jacket and a white Shuberth german made motorcycle helmet. That about describes me.
As I ponder the thought of my ride group departing without me, I meet up with JuanJo and we have several beers and tapas.
Pronounced Juan Ho. He suddenly realizes that he has a friend in Mexico City who knows the owner of IMTBIKE International.
JuanJo texts his friend in Mexico City who reaches out to the owner of the company that happens to be in Florida; who then reaches out to his person running things in Madrid Spain. The loop is now closed and I get the call from the owner. He says call Guijermo at his home and here’s the number.
My ride is now saved. I’m riding a slightly smaller bike than back home. A newer BMW 850.
DAY I- Roberto was the first to don rain gear pants. The rest of us now felt safe from rain before departure but, the Spanish gods didn’t see it that way. The rain started and everything for miles was soon covered in a steady downpour. We rode for several hours in the pouring rain and even ate our second breakfast under an umbrella in a Spanish courtyard in a non descriptive little town. Nothing worth describing here, just French fries, some pieces of dried ham and two sunny side up eggs.
So far. Four ATM machines have now failed me.
We still have one guy staying back. His name is Bill. Bill made the mistake of being trusting enough to leave his helmet unattended for a few minutes. A helmet recently purchased for under 1k and never used is now gone. The Civil National Police even responded to take a police report. Today at 1000 am a nearby motorcycle shop opens up. Bill’s ride will soon be saved.
Olive trees as far as the eye can see and signs telling you to be aware of lynxes. That’s about it. It was one of those days when I thought of how wonderful riding Mexico was. The food and lodging was nothing to brag about until today.
A five course meal was 29 euros. The room was 51 euros. The motorcycle parking was 10 euros. The after drinks, conversation about how everyone’s day went, once we settled in was priceless.
And now where’s Bill?
Trawlercat Chronicles 