Transferring ownership of the Honda XRE 300 to me was started before leaving Huanuco. On July 26th Toby Shannon and I went to a notary to file the paperwork. Toby did all of the work with his fluent spanish and expert knowledge of the process. I tagged to pay the fees, provided my passport when needed, and applied a fingerprint to seal the deal. A trained if unruly monkey could have done my part. The paperwork was submitted the days before Independence Days hoping the submission would be at the top of the stack when the government reopened the following week. How long would the processing take? The best guess, one to two weeks. The good news, I didn't need to wait in Huanuco for the ownership transfer to be completed. Toby gave me the government website address to check for updates and download the new ownership file. 

I couldn't take the bike out of Peru until ownership was in my name. Having time to kill I headed in the opposite direction of my overall route to see the boiling river. Next, I pointed the bike toward the general direction of Cusco. Peru 5N has a few sections of gravel roads, which aren't my favorite. There wasn't a rush, so I pressed gently on from Honoria to Pozuzo. As I traveled over dips in the road, I could feel and hear something wasn't right with the bike. The power of would briefly slip as if the gears deep in the engine were slipping, paired with a chunking sound. I feared the worst and my trip was just getting started. By late afternoon I pulled into Pozuzo, a town (re)established by Germans and Austrians in the 1850's. Within the first few blocks of entering Pozuzo, I stumbled on Koch Performance. The owner took the bike for a quick spin and diagnosed the problem -- a loose chain! A feeling of stupidity and relief washed over me.  The chain would jump over the gears as I went over dips in the road. Yikes! Shortly the old chain was cut off and a new chain was installed. With recommendations for lodging, a place to eat authentic Austrian food, and a microbrewery, I was all set. 

The next day was filled with gentle twists and turns through the mountains, reaching Satipo by late afternoon. With little fuss, I found a hotel and the bike was stored in a secure parking lot a couple of blocks away. After dinner, I realized I had been in Peru for a couple of weeks and failed to have the national drink, a Pisco Sour. Welcome to Peru.