It was a perfect day yesterday with beautiful blue skies. I was cruising along the main highway towards home with Jorge, the leader of the YWAM base in Puerto Madryn, on the back of my bike when suddenly there was no more power left. By the time we pulled to a slow stop along the edge of the route, we had almost reached the turnoff to my suburb. But the motor had stopped and there was no way I was going to be able to start it again.
The bike in which I am putting so much confidence.
So putting Jorge on the bike as my guest, I pushed the now dead bike with him steering it, all the way back home. Running. Barefoot because my flip-flops would not stay on my feet. Through the patches of mud that had not yet dried up. Through the broken glass scattered across the street. Past the rougher part of our area. Over the slight rise and back down the other side. Block by block, pushing, pushing, pushing.
We arrived in silence with no motor to announce our presence. The engine was dead, without any compression to give it life. One of the gaskets that seal the joints had broken and left me stranded. So on Monday it is back to old Mr Verdun for repair. How do I get it there? Oscar, one of my friends with a newer motorbike will be pulling me along with a rope.
Until then, with blue skies and two days off, I am stranded without transport. There are only two weeks left now before I leave for Salta on this bike. That is a 10 hour journey. But as Oscar said to me, it is better that all of the problems occur now than in the middle of the desert near to nothing while I am traveling along on my large journeys. I have to agree.