Well what d’ya know, we’re in Poland. Woo woo. I know, I can’t believe it either, but yup, the day before yesterday we rocked up to the border full of nerves and trepidation that for some reason they might not let us through yet there really was no need. After a bit of a palava over my bike documents with the first Ukraine offical an English speaking woman as nice as pie came over and sorted it all out. No fuss, no bother. Thankyou lady.
From there to the Polish barrier where you have to wait an unGodly number of hours for them to faff around and push the funeral procession through. But again, with barely any problem other than the now familiar suspicion that I’m smuggling drugs in from Pakistan we were on our way. Riding free. Riding Easy. We were now in the EU.
I don’t know if I’ve told you this or not – I get confused you see – but on the way t the border Dorothy had a ‘moment’. Let’s call her first collapse. Crusing along she suddently lost all power. Just blahhhh… down to 20 kays, no response in the throttle. Dorothy’s dead I screamed. But I of all people should know better than that. Twenty minutes later she was back alive, still not great, but kicking.
Yesterday then I had her serviced. I tried a few places who were either closed or no good, until finally, in one city I saw it; the big red ‘H’. There it was, a dealership for motorbikes just like mine. And so for the next three hours they checked valve clearances and carbuerettors, fed me all kinds of reasons why she’d be losing power; dirty fuel, valve clearance too tight, too much oil on the air filter. All that they put right, even pressure tested her and spannered everything tight.
And you know what.
She rode exactly the same. The same reluctance to go beyond 55, the same lack of refinement and vibration excess. Everything exactly the same. Bugger, what could it be? And then I remembered something that I’ve not told you until now. I think it could be the route of all Dorothy’s problems. Okay, here it is; my confession…
In Kazakhstan I let her run low on oil. Later that day she started clunking. She’s not been the same since.
There, I said it. And Dorothy I am so so so very sorry. What an idiot… low on oil, having come this far. Dickhead.