The journey ahead would be a bit rough. I had to get within striking distance of Santander for the following afternoon. I would need to cross the majority of Spain to do this. After the beating Betty had taken over the past few weeks, I should have been a little concerned, but going on the past performance over the last few weeks, I was filled with confidence.

I was having to manually oil the chain after losing the automatic scotoiler but the tyre wear had reduced in speed, so I was confident to reach home on a legal amount of tread.

Setting off well before 9am meant I had to get up in the dark given we were a long way west in Europe but still on West Europe time.

The roads were quiet and that usual gale blowing out of the Mediterranean was blowing me all over the road. I made good time and was past Seville before 11 am, from here the road through mid Spain would be quiet.

I had plenty of time to think about the fantastic sights and people I had met. To think of how big the world was and yet how easy it was for me to go and see something so different. All those people who waved at me, people who were kind and wished me well. It all added up to a wonderful experience of a totally different place where very little of my British experience of life meant much at all.

And we were heading home now, things like sports cars or jumbo jets made me make expletive remarks in my helmet, more out of the shock of seeing them, than anything else. I had only been away for 3 weeks! I had time for a 20 minute siesta by the side of the road. When in Rome…

Roadside siesta

Although I was constantly amazed and interested in the land I was passing through, There was no desire to go and investigate, mainly because of the tight time constraints but also, I was on the road to home, and I have known, after a number of trips away, that I was being dragged back home with very little complaint from myself. I was looking forward to seeing my family and getting back into a bit of useful employment. I was also looking forward to being able to speak in my own language easily and without embarrassment.

My journey had been a great one. It had been tough at times, emotional at moments and pure joy at others. I was struggling to think of ways to sum up the things I had seen, and perhaps I never will. I certainly can’t explain the way it made me feel, but it was quite unique.

My thoughts returned to the Berber people, “The Free”, they had left quite an impression on me, I had even carved the Berber symbol into the fly detritus on the headlight of Betty. One day, when I’m older and things don’t work anymore, hopefully, I’ll have a few memories of my life. I hope I might remember back to the time I was in North Africa for three weeks, where I was truly free.