Panic!

So, all packed. Bike’s loaded up and heading down to Petersfield for the night at my Dad’s and then the early morning ferry to Santander in northern Spain, across to Barcelona, then another ferry over to Mallorca for a five months.

Amy is travelling in the car on her own, but with all our spring luggage as company….it’s like having my own support vehicle (lovely face and big breasts).

Anyway, just past Richmond (really deep into journey then!) pull over as I’ve noticed a little rattling before I hit the motorway.

Look down and see an oily spacer just sitting there on the collector box to the pipes.

This worries me somewhat. Fuck knows what it’s for, but it’s rather substantial and looks like it should be doing something important.

A panicked call to Jack Lilley who just serviced the bike (and 1200 bloody quid, but I’m over that now) and sent them a pic asking if I should be worried?  They said ‘Yes, maybe...probably’ and suggested that they either pick it up or I bring it in straight away.

So now I’m sitting in Jack Lilley’s at 4:30 Friday afternoon while the mechanic strips the back end of the bike down looking for this bastard spacer’s natural home.

I'm contemplating worst case scenarios if they over-run or damage has been caused etc; No Bike for morning ferry!!!! so I get train to Petersfield and travel with Amy to Spain, which means no bike and coming back in Feb to pick it up etc, or me staying behind untill bike sorted, then re-booking ferries and hotels etc.....neither scenarios that desirable.

I’m really not panicking, ferry leaves at 8:00am tomorrow, with cabin, two nights hotels en-route and Barcelona ferry and cabin all booked and all highly non-refundable.

I think secretly I really like these last minute dramas, make my dead bones feel so alive!  

Jack Lilley did their bit with smooth efficiency. The vagrant spacer was from the swinging arm, the big metal bit that keeps the rear wheel attached to the bike. Seems they had dropped it when changing the tyre two weeks ago and not locating anywhere, just replaced it with a new one. My newfound ring of steel was therefore redundant and could have enjoyed the ride through Spain without me ever realising and with my rear wheel remaining attached to my bike, which is obviously my preferred option. 

Just under an hour and I was back on the road headed to Petersfield for fab dinner, lovely wine and warm bed at my Dads, in preparation for the early morning ferry to Santander and a fond farewell to a crazy hangover from last night which has haunted me all day.