First off all, I'll dedicate this outstanding Moto Guzzi road movie, ha!, to my friend Patrick Hayes. Who's Patrick? Just a nice guy in ´Gringoland'. Patrick and I know that Moto Guzzi's are tough, reliable cruisers, whether they are one day old or in my case thirty. When you sit almost two years on your bike, cruising through all this strange countries without any problem, a bike starts to live. Yeah man, it's almost that my bike comes to life. Still hope she turns into a horny little princess when I kiss her headlamp in the South of Argentina as a reward of a safe journey. We're back! Got interrupted by some nice Seattle-people and we started to drink. And then I drank more on Maria's party. And then I got shit faced. Embarrasing. Can't remember anything.
24 Dec '06 - 19:55 | Wow, 49 comments already
I just had lunch and enjoyed some miles of asphalt roads when I drove into this tunnel. There was no light, just (sometimes) knee-deep pools of water and the sound of dripping water. I thought that this 2-mile long tunnel was a hell whole and started to get worried. Yeah, it was a bit spooky and I softly cried for my mother. She told me not to worry. You see, when I’m in trouble help always is underway, which is so true. The funny thing is that most of the time help comes within five or ten minutes, but not this time. I thought I had a better chance at the edge. The middle part of the tunnel was full of water. Sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Don’t forget that the bike is fully loaded and weighs with me 400 k’s, 800 pounds. And my bike is low and gets stuck easily. So I chose for the edge. Wrong: quicksand, silence, darkness, cold, wet, tears.
22 Dec '06 - 02:26 | Wow, eight comments already
Fitzgeraldo - the man and his boat - was a softy. We all know that. Like him I had to get my steamer over this mountain-ridge. The difference between Fitzgeraldo and me is that he had hundreds of helpers, I none. You see I got myself trapped in Macas, the capital of the state Morona-Santiago near the border of Peru. My goal was to drive back to Quito to spend Christmas among friends. I mean, to suffer alone on the Guzzi while El Flaco (Jesus) celebrates his birthday is a bit too much, que te parece Guzman? But how, there are only two roads from Macas to civilization and they are bad? And that’s an understatement. The cart-rude (karrenspoor) to Puyo, where you can find better roads to Quito, I knew already. So there was no alternative to face evil and to choose for the direction of Riobamba.
20 Dec '06 - 21:48 | Wow, fourteen comments already
Waar te beginnen? Bij de gewoonlijk wat afwachtende Shuar-indianen? Bij mijn sponsor – ja Guzman ik heb een sponsor, wat ongelooflijk sjiek en professioneel – die me een geldbedrag heeft toegezegd waarvan ik twee tot drie maanden zorgeloos kan leven in Peru? Bij Maria Trinidad, voorheen vagelijk voorgesteld als Mary dan wel M., voor wie ik nog net niet op de knieën ben gegaan ongelogen? Bij de lijdende Guzzi, of wordt het wellicht tijd Tania, Tomás, Julián en Nantu voor te stellen? Worstel hier al een dag of wat mee met als resultaat dat het computerscherm leeg blijft. Maar vandaag pakken we de zaken anders aan. Ik ga zitten en zal optikken wat in me opkomt, oké? Eens kijken of we op deze manier de hersenen aan de kook kunnen krijgen. Als ik me niet vergis, meldde ik in mijn laatste berichtje dat ik was gestoken door een mug. Dat was op 6 december.
14 Dec '06 - 21:00 | Wow, 35 comments already