Record Ride Musings #3

“Between 12 and 18K, but we have to order the 2 inlet valves from Honda Japan. There are none in the country. There’s a 6 weeks lead time.” said the dude at Randburg Motorcycles.

“What?! No! No! No! Stick it back together and I’ll take a rain check on the front tyre as well.”

“Niven, please take it straight home. You’d be lucky to get 500k’s before you fuck up the top end.”

“Sure.”

It’s hard to fathom how well they were riding, I mean, even without considering the really tough going caused by the insanely muddy conditions. This extreme effort will, surely come back and haunt them later on during the ride. Who knows to what extent there has been equipment damage? No, there was still a lot of chicken left on this bone.

I was holed up in the Wimpy at the Engen in Volksrust. A popular stop frequented by other heidelBay cyclists. It’s the last stop where one can stock up on provisions before the onset of the twilight hours. Here the route veers away from the comforting artery of the railway line, which continues on towards Charlestown and it climbs up and over the escarpment towards Vryheid.

It was late afternoon, probably about 16h00. I had cleaned up in the heads, cleared away as much mud and grim as I could and dried using those paper towel hand rolls. I had been up since 03h00 that morning and although I had a few cups of coffee during the day, I had my first meal consisting of spare ribs and a French salad. More coffee and sparkling water. Rather modest really. A month in, I was now, well accustomed to my self-imposed break from alcohol. Where are they?

I’d had another spill on the motorbike. Given the treacherous conditions, I know I got lucky. The tally could easily have been higher. My leg hurt and started swelling. I’d done some serious damage to this leg in a motocross accident some 15 years ago. I started cycling as a form of rehab. Kinda ironic. 

I rushed over to the entrance to greet them. I approached with a camera. Mikes first words, were that Carlo had scratched. Wow! I learnt that he had slowly been nursing himself back to full riding health after having a kidney removed last year. This was obviously his longest ride since the op. Are you kidding me? What a brutal thing to attempt! (Note to self: Make those drinks at the Troyville doubles).

I had finally managed to secure a seating booth, which is not as easy as one would imagine. A bit like queuing up for your car license renewal. These booths have 3-pin 15 Amp electrical outlets AND USB cell phone charging points. Patrons would come in to have a coffee,but would loiter around long after the the cups contents had been consumed, to charge their cellphones. 

Mike had that look of post-traumatic stress disorder on his face, when I offered him a share of my booth. Apparently, the memory of their Standerton Wimpy stopover was still too raw. It seems there was a firehose involved, with humans, bicycles and bags being extricated from what sounded like quick setting mud. They made a momentous, muddy, mess, traipsing all that muck back in over the white floor tiles. Reports suggested that the place resembled Blood River. The horrified look on the other customers faces, will haunt Mike forever.

   

No matter how hard the cashier tried to convince him that he really wasn’t in as dirty a state as he’d imagined, he was having none of it.

So, I spent some time with them outside on the paved walkway instead and watched, asked questions and listened as they prepped for the next leg of their adventure.