Actually I'm going to London, but same difference, right? According to MAGA morons at least.
7am and I'm on the road, ready for my 11:10 ferry from Calais and the lengthy border checks by the Imperial Storm Troopers of UK Border Force. Actually they're usually pretty nice, it's just the the rules are strict and if you get caught behind a vehicle with questionable paperwork - "ver are your papers?" - it's really frustrating to see the queues next to you moving, while yours is stationary. Just like Sainsbury's, right...
Well today, all that's all ahead of me; before that, it's a mini-adventure just getting to Calais.
Good start, traffic is light, making good progress without needing a 'get out of jail free' card. No escaping those pesky average speed cameras "trajectcontroles" as they are called in Flanders, which has 1200 such systems.
The first sign of trouble is a feeling of slight looseness in the rear end, which develops into a definite wobble. Normally a wobbly rear end is a desirable feature, but not on a motorcycle at 120... I manage to reach one of the refuge bays, set back from the hard shoulder itself. My rear tyre is completely flat.
I know the problem, my wife knew the problem, she even warned me of the problem before leaving. But, you see, I had a plan! The problem was a previous repair. A screw from several years ago caused a puncture, which I repaired, and that had survived at least two track days since, and held firm. But a few days ago I noticed a slight leak, which I plugged again. But now the tyre was thinner than before and had less rubber to grip, even if the tyre still had plenty of tread left. Replugging an old repair, I now know to be a poor life choice... Hey! Don't judge me, that's what life is about: learning! I know, I'm only making excuses, I admit to that.
But I have time in hand, so, Plan B is mobilised. I have my rope plugs, I have my pump, so I plug it again. Job done.
... for 10km or so. Then mademoiselle wobble comes back. Luckily I'm near the Drongen services, so pull in there. More plugs, more air, which I pay for as my rechargeable pump is low. A young, fresh A2 licenced, biker asks if I need help and we chat as I make further plug attempts. By this time I'm mentally falling back to Plan C, miss the ferry, catch a later one, and find a place to change the tyre. With help of A2 guy and Google, we locate a Yamaha dealer about 8km away. My tyre holds enough for the short motorway stint before getting on the back roads. I make it to Yamaha. But it's closed. Fortunately only until 10am!
Yamaha guy shrugs his shoulder (apologetically, as we're in Flanders); they're way behind with repairs and have customers coming to collect bikes today, so no chance of a tyre change. He says maybe the Suzuki dealer on the Ghent ring could do it, and suggests a puncture repair foam to help get me there. Hmm... that could work; small gap should be filled nicely by the air dried foam. I gladly buy two cans. He fills my tyre and pumps it to pressure. I need to rotate the tyre asap, so off I go, seeking Suzuki.
When I stop, the fountain of foam coming out of my tyre tells me this ain't gonna work. Now I'm considering Plan D, abandon the day, get recovered home and take my other bike. But I jump back on and finally make it to Suzuki via the convoluted Ghent ring road.
But they are even more useless. No mechanics, no real sign of any proper motorcycles either, only what a Gilera-connected friend once referred to as just "crappy scooters". But the lady there did recommend a BMW dealer, which Google told me was not far away. I gave them a call and the guy sounded very helpful and could fit a tyre. Result. But how to get there. I'd run out of plugs, the foam was useless. I know, I'll ride very slowly on the flat tyre... 🤦🏽
Didn't end well. But at least it ended very quickly, after no more than 40m. But that was about 20m onto the dual carriageway and I was stuck. It was almost impossible to push backwards and going forward was not an option. By this stage, I begin to question my life choices again and Plan E goes briefly through my brain: give up motorcycles - I did say briefly, think nanoseconds. I struggled a few cms at a time, but eventually a cyclist stopped to help me push it backwards to relative calm.
I phoned the BMW guy and he said he could collect me during the lunch break. Sounds good to me. Only two hours away, but it's a definite and solid plan. There's a petrol station nearby so I have an early lunch of a cheese and tomato panini served by a very unsmiling attendant. I sit outside, fortunately sheltered from the sun, and then the heavy rain that graces this parched land.
12:15 comes as does Plan D again: what if he can't come, what if, what if, what if. But there's a toot and I see the yellow Leie Motors truck on the other side of the road - I'm saved! I feel like the desperate C-3PO waving to the Jawa vehicle in the distance on Tatooine.
We load the bike up the ramp onto the trailer, which in itself is a challenge as the rim is now spinning in the tyre after my 40m jaunt, but somehow we manage. It's a short ride to Leie Motors (no, not 'Leia' Motors), passing Drongen services (again!).
My rescuing BMW guy is Han, just kidding, "Jous" (you-se), and we chat about satellites, frequencies, illegal cordless phones in the 90s, and cell phone jamming, as you do. On arrival we reverse into the garage area.
Jous decides to repair the bike on the trailer as it's tied down and stable. My bike has no centre stand making it more difficult to get the wheel clear of the deck, but it's doable with a collection of jacks and wood blocks.
The tyre change is easy, takes five minutes, and the wheel is back on the bike. I 'admire' the collection of rope repair plugs bursting through the inside of the old tyre... 🤦🏽
My old tyre had a good life, commuting, track days, and tours. I generally get around 20,000km out of Michelin tyres and this PR5 was close to that and still had tread left. The new tyre is an updated PR6, but the GT version meant for heavier bikes. But good enough.
While there, I have the front tyre changed too, a matching PR6 GT. I was planning to have them changed in London anyway.
Jous points out that my rear brake fluid needs changing, as well as my wet front brake pads which he says won't stop effectively. But I had also seen this and had thoroughly tested them to make sure they DID work properly - I would not ride it if I had any doubts. I also asked him to tighten the damper rod nut underneath the fork as you can only reach that with the wheel off and there was a tiny leak from one side.
You'd think with all the work, little extras, roadside rescue, and my undying gratitude, that the bill would be high, but no, a very reasonable 565 euro.
I've been thoroughly impressed by Jous, although Leie Motors is not an official BMW dealer, he's the local goto guy for old BMW repairs, he even has a collection of R1100S bikes of his own - my kind of guy. I'm really impressed by the service and even though it's some distance from where I live, I would consider going back for other jobs. He can repair car tyres too! If you ever need a helpful mechanic close to the E40 around Ghent, he's your man.
Back on the road! No puncture worries, bliss, but my bike still feels a little loose in the rear. I stop in another refuge, but everything is fine. I think I have rear end wobble trauma. (Sunday update: the pressures are too high, fine now).
I make it to Calais by 15:15 and Irish Ferries are brilliant and don't charge anything extra. I'll just have to wait for the next available sailing, which is at 18:20. No problem.
But border checks take an absolute age and this time I get stuck in two dead queues. I get to the boarding area and there are a few cars there. It's a long wait so I go to the snack area for some coffee, crisps and an overdue waste disposal. When I get back to my bike about 20 minutes later there are fewer cars and I can see an Irish Ferries ship just pulling out - I have a strong suspicion that I missed an opportunity to get on the earlier ferry. 😮💨 But the sky is blue, the air is fresh, and I have not a care in the world, so I put my jacket down, ear plugs in, hat over my eyes, and lie back and relax.
Eventually my ferry arrives, slightly late, and we board. Smooth journey, and off at Dover. Short ride to London, petrol stop on the way, and I'm at my destination. Burger waiting for me at NotNat's cantina 🫠. Tomorrow I meet up with my buddies Han, Chewy and Leia - you know who you are.
