Sept 17th '04. La Puebla de Argazon.

A roadhouse, somewhere between Vitoria and Burgos.
Christ I feel manly! I've just spent an hour in a dusty truckstop in el centro de nowhere, oiling me chain, pumping up me tyres to near-roadworthy pressure and checking me lubricants. Missus. A great Sopa (soup) de (of) Pescados (fish) for lunch and a very clean, cool room for 32 euros.

It's about 85 degrees. Sodding fantastic mountains on the way here, marred only by jabs of neck pain which is now thankfully on the way out. People continue to offer help out of the blue. A young studenty chap came up to me in Vitoria to talk about motorcycles and and offer directions. Thanks buddy! I suppose I do look a wee bit like a refugee, with my whole life packed into bags and boxes on the back of the moto.

Having checked into the roadhouse - man that's cool - I dumped several kilos of luggage and went in search of fags (Hey there Mr Yankee Doodle Dandy! Quit sniggering!). The quest took me to a village called Trevino. With the bicycletta almost back to racing weight and just a t-shirt on, it became one of those perfect 10-mile round trips. You know what I mean. Spunky throttle! Windy road! Sunny Blue! Ooofff.. nearly scraped me boxes on that last corner... and then roll into a dusty petrol station, where a lone nipper on a moped gawps wistfully at my throbber - stop it madam - grab the fags; and can't get onto that fantastic 5 mile return stretch quickly enough. Whaaaaaa! That's what it's all about. That, and ice-cold Cruzcampo in a dusty roadhouse, somewhere in Spain, at a time of day when anyone with any moral fibre AT ALL is in an air-conditioned office, straightening paperclips and making rubber-band spheres.

This is the best thing I've ever done, ever. In my whole life. It's even better than when I had it off with a minor TV celeb. And that was a moment of shimmering glory.

I'm having love thoughts towards my moto. Naturally, it aspires to be an animal that, while slightly fat, can dart off quickly if the need arises. A wild pig, if you will. I am forcing it into donkey mode by loading it up with tons of crap and expecting it to cope with minimal food and water... and I feel sorry for it. Sometimes, though, it seems as if it's enjoying itself as much as I am. Spurting past a Czech juggernaut on an uphill Pyrenean bend, for example.
Mind you, the moment it becomes an obstinate ass and refuses to comply with my every demand, I'll have the bugger shot and made into glue. Only joking darling! Love you! xxxx

Last night I had a dream I was going out with Britney Spears. And she was the most incredible pain in the arse.