FIFE - THE FINAL FRONTIER
Last bit of the journey and what could possibly happen on a straight blast from Portsmouth to Bonnie Jockoland........
Disembarkation went without a hitch and was soon in the queue outside to have passports checked and let loose on the back roads to Bristol where I had arranged to meet one of my old RAF pals called Griff.
Whilst passing through the border security the Officer was asking every biker to remove their helmet for a passport photo check, everyone duly obliged and we were getting through one by one.
No one was asked to take their balaclavas off as most people's faces are on the front.
I gave my passport to the chap when it was my turn and he looked at it then me and asked "Do you still have long hair?"
I replied "Yes, and gorgeous it is too."
This threw him a little and he told me if I got it cut I would have to apply for a new passport and driving licence, ehh?
I asked him why neither my wife or daughter have ever been told to do this when they go from brown to red to blonde to long and short and he just looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language, which in fairness I probably was to him.
A very cheery "Don't be such a fanny" from me and he let me and my barnet back onto UK soil.
My SatNav had sprung into life and I was soon on the A36 heading to Bath.
The roads were absolutely chocka all the way through Salisbury and Warminster and the only way I made any progress was by being on a bike and filtering like a Demon. I genuinely feel sorry for any car drivers down this area as the road network is obviously at saturation point and is not something I encounter back in Scotland unless there is a crash on the road.
Took 3 hours to get to Bristol and I was met by my pal Griff his Spanish, sorry Catalonian wife Ester and some of their 5 children.
We had a great catch up and what was meant to be a ten minute visit whizzed by into 3.5 hours and much food and coffee and snacks were gladly eaten.
When it was time to go the two boys Alex and Raul came out for a seat on the bike.
It doesn't seem 5 minutes when me and Griff first met as RAF Apprentices back in 87 and we were both Alex's age when we were chucked in a dormitory and subjected to 3 years of sleep deprivation, physical punishment disguised as education and intensive training in order to enable us to service all the Electronics on modern warplanes.
54 of us started and only 26 passed out but looking back on it it forged friendships and loyalties that have stood the test of time. I would recommend it to anyone.
Anyways I digress, I left Bristol around 10 PM with everyone wanting me to stay but I was desperate to see my own family and reckoned the motorway would be empty at night.
Ester had told me that there was to be lots of shooting stars between midnight and 4AM and to keep a look out for them to make a wish.
I blasted up a moderately cold and busy M5 but when I got as far as Birmingham it was gridlocked for around 30 miles due to road works. I managed to squeeze my wide arse between stationary traffic but was finding it difficult physically as the bike is very heavy at slow speed and I was knackered and getting worse due to the night riding.
A Royal Mail truck driver deliberately tried to block me or knock me off the bike as I was approaching him from behind but I narrowly avoided being struck and I made a mental note to stop at the next services as I was almost falling asleep and temperatures were around 2-3 degrees and I need a break.
Half an hour in a M6 Costa near Manchester saw me heated up full of coffee and ready to blast home in a oner, thinking I might even see a shooting star if I was lucky.
The road north was now empty but weather conditions took a massive dip.
As I approached Lancaster God decided to switch on the Irish Sea wind turbine on full power and load it with snow sleet and rain and target the wee daft Scotsman on the bike.
I battled on, the snow and sleet abated although the wind was blowing a Hoolie and In the early hours I eventually got to the sign I had been desperate to see.
This gave me a second wind and although ready for bed I knew a quick blast up the M74 would see me at Glasgow.
As the M74 goes onto the M8 there is a new link just been put in that is quite confusing and of the twice I have done it in my car I have only ended up on the correct road once.
True to form I f13ked it up again and ended up on the A8 which runs parallel to the motorway for several miles before joining it.
I took this as a blessing because I was bursting for a pish and I was able to stop on the smaller A8.
I put the bike on it's side stand and relieved my self over the metal Armco barrier whilst trying to scan the sky for a shooting star.
After I had finished my business I was sorting myself and my trousers out when I saw an artic lorry heading straight for me and my bike at speed, the driver must have just seen us at the last second and missed the rear of the bike by inches, unfortunately due to the storm he was dragging a hurricane of turbulence behind him and the wind blast sucked my bike forward and off it's side stand making it fall over onto me and the road barrier.
I switched the engine off as I could hear the cylinders running dry of oil and then I realised I couldn't move my feet.
The engine guards had pinned both my legs from the knee down under the bike which was totally on its side, the lhs pannier was also off which made it even lower onto my legs.
I, for some reason burst into uncontrollable hysterical laughter and leaned backwards looking skywards, I thought f13k this I'm no getting up until I see a shooting star, lol.
After two minutes of hoping, I gave up as my arse was freezing as my breeks were not fully up. It took a good 5 minutes of hard work to free myself from under the bike and 3 attempts to lift it off the ground to the vertical.
I reattached the pannier and started her up, all was good and my SatNav told me I'd be home in 40 minutes, thank f13k it would soon be over.
I checked my rhs mirror and the road was unsurprisingly desolate for the back of 4AM, a quick check to my lhs mirror and WTF....................
No mirror, the Portuguese Karma God had followed me from Lisbon and snapped it off. The f13king taxi driving barsteward. Lol
I found it on the ground next to the barrier and picked it up and attached it to my bag to keep as a souvenir of the trip and headed for home.
I managed the last 40 miles without being robbed, stopped by Polis, falling off in the snow or being abuse by French people AND I was in Scotland so I felt like I had won.
It was a great feeling to turn into my drive and see my beautiful wife sitting in the kitchen waiting up for me with my dog and at 5AM I had finished the trip.
When home I discovered that Garmin had sent a corrupt update to Mac users and was now corrected, so my Nav 5 is perfect now but I bought a new TomTom to back it up as I had intended to throw the Nav 5 in the sea.
The mirror was reattached by buying a new bolt (part 4) that BMW told me is designed to snap in the event of a fall to save the main mirror which is made of much stronger metal.
Will probably get Andorra knocked off my list this year and have a funny feeling 2019 will see me in Bangkok via the Himalayas after last years cancellation.
I've really enjoyed writing this as a reminder to myself and also as a wee bit entertainment to all the members here.
Ride safe my friends and remember there is no such thing as a stranger, just a friend you have not met yet.
Jimmy and SashaMac
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
don't you?
- I think you need to be nominated the forums official travel reporter/blogger. I bet theres a magazine or 2 that would be interested in documenting your adventure.
