Romania ... Well Nearly

OK, so told y'all about Biker Camp in Budapest, well I'm still here ... the story goes:

Monday morning, as mentioned and as planned, I pack up and load up the bike, destination Romania. Aftre two days of pure chillin', I'm keen to get back on the road and I think maybe too keen as the bike quickly reminds me of that niggling concern I still have about the vibration from the rear wheel. Yes it has lessened since the BMW garage renewed the rear wheel bearings but there really shouldn't be any vibration at all, but I convince myself that they're new bearings, probably over greased and need to bed in. Well this conversation with myself continues all the way to the border, over 200 kms, and now I'm in Romania and witness what I expected, albeit 50 kms worth, wooden shacks, rough roads, donkeys and carts, etc. Now I'm thinking what if the vibration gets worse and I break down, well Romania, bless you, is not the place to have a knackered BMW on your hands. That's it, decision made, I'm turning round and going straight back to the BMW garage in Budapest that did the work on the bike. I've managed to go from "let's just crack on" to being worried that the rear bearings are going to over-heat and shatter; I keep stopping to feel how hot the rear hub is getting; then trying to convince myself that it's the tyres and they have worn unevenly and that's what's causing the vibration. Whatever the case, there's only one way to find out and that's change the tyres, which need to be replaced in the next 2,000 kms anyway, and see if that cyres the problem. Over 500 kms later, I pull up at the garage just as they are closing, bugger! Fine. Back to Biker Camp. "Hello, me again?". Tell Susan and son, Albert, the story to which Albert, who has rebuilt many motorcycles, is now scouring my baby with a fine tooth comb. Heat from the rear axle is normal he says and he too thinks it's the tyre.

As we're talking in walks John, a young, thin Englishman, I'm guessing late 20's, who, as it turns out spent his University days and after, in Cardiff. Houses and fires, we hit it off in seconds and start preparing our mutual dinner in Biker Camp. Backgounds, histories, stories, are exchanged until gone one this morning, with, as you have already guessed, plenty of alcoholic lubrication. John, upbeat, polite, fun and always laughing, has been on the road for two months and is also on two wheels, however, his doesn't have an engine! Have seen one or two pedaling tourers on my travels but this is the first I have met and quickly understand why he is thin and wirey, with that slightly concave looking body that no doubt, reflects his riding poistion. He tells me that he was quite porky when he left Cardiff but we worked out that if he's on the saddle for a good 10 hours a day, cycling about 100 kms, he must be burning well over 4,000 calories in that time and given his measely budget he's simply not eating enough, obviously. He's lost over two stone. So I've decided that tonight will be a treat for both of us and once I've finished this blog and John has collected his serviced cycle from the shop, we're off to town, the Columbus Jazz Boat, live music, fat steaks, gushings of slurp, on the Danube. Really looking forward to going out and have a vibrating BMW to thank for it. By the way, I understand that when you're travelling and especially when you're pedaling, weight is important, but take a look at John's tent in the pic ... "Wanna come back to my place?!"

Back to this morning and a 45 minute wait at the garage for the manager to arrive to then tell me he doesn't have my tyres in stock, however, he gives me the address of a Yamaha garage that should have them. Long story short and a good chunk of the day later, the bike has new boots and frankly has never ridden sweeter, no vibrations, nothing; I've known it but didn't realise a worn, dodgy tyre can have that much impact. Anyway, all done and touch wood, the bike is now ready to take on the next 10 to 15,000 kilometres without interuption. Hoo-bloody-rah!

Right, off to town now and to PARTY!

Or as The Mask would say ...

P-A-R-T-why? Coz I ... gotta!