27.2.09. Valdivia, Chile.

I wake up in Puerto Varas at 8.30, so full of beans that a bit of bean-sick almost comes out. It's misty and chillsome, and I've a feeling La Fluffita is only going to give me one cylinder; but I know how to bodge it. I'm right, so I do it, and she runs perfectly out of the 25 mile fog bank and into a 15 degree temperature hike. I'm heading for the bike shop in Valdivia; having communicated with el mecanico (in English) I'm certain he can sort 'er out once and for all.

By 6.30pm the problem that has haunted my dreams and stuck two fingers up at my aspirations has gone away for ever. A stuck choke! That's all it was. The shop is bloody marvellous, but get this - two of them do 3 hours work, and they don't charge me a penny for it! Oh boy. A perfect, shiny (they washed it as well), eager, fast-again, halo-toting, red-white-and-blue dream machine with new Honda oil in it. Honda oil, the colour of a lovely biscuit, or a really nice cup of tea; the colour of a shimmering popsy from a 1970's Ambre Solaire advert. These are the sacred moments! I've also got a massive spotless bathroom in my hotel, and it's a hot Friday night in a bar-encrusted University town. Man Alive! What a crazy scene.
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