Still making the same old mistakes

I had a great ride last weekend, I had everything settled beforehand and I was just in need of a quick supper before I hit the road.

Motorways were empty, and as soon as I got off the coast and entered the realm of the pure darkness. I hardly found any vehicle despite a bunch of late night lorry drivers going cross country. The sky was full of stars in a moonless night, and why not say it… full throttle as coppers were not in sight. I guess most of them were having a hot cup of coffee somewhere warmer than the cold road.

The Triumph Speedmaster pulled easily and the never-ending rumble of the engine was mesmerizing. Rider, motorway and mount became one whole piece, and I felt in the flow. More than 500 miles to my destiny in a solo night ride is a spiritual experience.

There’s only one indicator for low fuel in a Triumph Speedmaster, just a tiny light on the small display classic bikes have, and mine has been out or work for nearly three years now. But that’s not a problem, I know I can go around 300 kilometres before refueling again.

But only guys who are not clumsy would consider that a significant increase in the average speed would also mean a significantly lower mileage. And the engine died, in the middle of nowhere, no cops, no vehicles, not a single soul to blame me!

The road became a bit downhill for a while, until the motorbike stopped completely. Not a single light, and a quite remote area. It should be around midnight, exactly the time most petrol stations close. Yeah I know, I was fucked.

But I’ve been there before, and I wasn’t nervous at all. I knew I’d have to pull the bike a little bit, but nothing a bit of patience wouldn’t fix. The first thing I did was checking the navigator. There was a station 3.5 km away from my position.

Have you ever pulled a 250 kilo motorcycle for 3.5 kilometres? Funny innit? The good thing was that I had nothing else to do apart from keep on going. After an hour or so, I stopped a while, covered in sweat in the middle of the night and relaxed a bit looking at the sky.

There was no village close, no light at all, and the stars were at their brightest, and I just thought to myself how lucky I was to experience everything I am living as a biker. Normal people would worry while I was there, next to my bike -no way I was going to leave her there alone- and I laughed like a baby.

I finally got to the petrol station, and guess what? It was closed! So what a night. I finally got into a 24/7 bar near and got myself a cup of tea, but that was just after the waiter confirmed for a third time he didn’t have a litre of gas to sell.

I called a taxi, a guy picked me up, I got to a petrol station, got some gas, refilled my tank a bit and got on with the trip. My girlfriend, waiting for me around 400 miles away started to panic, but that’s another story…

It doesn’t really matter whether you achieve or fail, you always live a great adventure on two wheels. Just have a look what was waiting for me where she was.

#beach #mediterranean #valencia

A post shared by Paco Naranjo (@paco.naranjo) on

See you on the road guys, hopefully full of gas.

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