a trans planetary trip, some of it by guzzi.

[ferguzzi]

it seems ages ago now, but sometime in august I had started what was meant to be a 3 week trip away from home, part work, part fun. It took a little longer.....

 

Woke up at 330am, butterflies in my stomach, hop on the tenni and make the 3 hour trip to the ferry on the southeast of ireland. Cold but dry, I'm salivating at the thought of a decent spin. The bike isn't missing a beat.The new clutch feels odd, but that's because it's new. 4 hour ferry, hit fishguard in wales, then a 5 hour spin to london. It's all motorway, but the sun is shining, the bike's growling happily, God's in his heaven and all is well. I get to Heathrow with time to spare, sort out the bike, get myself sorted, catch some shuteye, then go to work.

This particular work day has me flying an A340 to Hong Kong, about 12 hours. then 2 days there, beer, chinese food, the best kebabs in Asia, sleep.

Then down to Sydney, about 9 hours. 24 hours there, sleep, surf Manley, steak, maybe a glass of wine, sleep.

Then back to Hong kong. Its a daylight flight, but we're 12 hours out of sync so the fatigue is building, no matter how much you sleep. Arrive in Hong Kong night time, maybe a beer in the hotel to wind down, then off to bed. Sleep like a dead baby.

Another 2 days here, more chinese food, kebabs, shopping , whatever does it for you. Normally you just want to go home at this stage.

Finally leave for London, 13 hours in the air, excitement's palpable among the crew as they look forward to seeing loved ones, dogs, whatever.

Only I'm not going straight home. I have an appointment in Holland with some guzzitsi.....

 

Now at this point, i was going to attach a photo of the cockpit from sydney, but the damn computer's not behaving, so bear with me. all photos at the end maybe. Anyhooo...

 

Arrive in Heathrow 430 am, tired but excited, Catch a few hours sleep, then find the bike unmolested after 8 days. pack and hit the road, down to portsmouth for the 4 hour ferry to France. Sun's shining, an indian summer has hit northern Europe, and I cant believe my luck. Silly boy....

Boat Docks in Cherbourg, A smattering of British bikers are making small talk as the drawbridge lowers and France beckons. 7pm and it's still warm, I'm going to enjoy this.

50 Yards off the boat, just after you pass the customs boys, there's a roundabout.

I open the throttle as i exit, anxious to hit the road proper. But there's a slight lag.

Did i really feel that? I enter the next corner, open it up on exit, and sure enough, there's a slight delay from when I open the throttle, to when it translates to my backwheel. It's tiny, but it's there. So i studiously ignore it. Only of course, inevitably, obviously, the lag gets worse. the delay gets longer until the clutch, my new clutch with about 1000 miles on it, is well and truly slipping. I last about twenty miles,and finally stop dead in a pretty little village called St Mere eglise.

Now the historians among you might have heard of this place. Its where the US 82nd airborne were due to land on D day. On any other occasion, I'd have been like a kid in a candy shop here, but not this evening. Because this evening, I'm broken down (again), Everythings closed, and I'm on my own (again), I'm in a lovely spot, the Tenni looks fabulous, it just won't fucking run(again).

Thank God for AA european insurance. Well needless to say, plans got changed radically. The next 2 days the original plan to tour the Dday sights went ahead, but in a gay peugeot, not a growling guzzi.

Still, at least i got to see them. Omaha beach, where Tom Hanks and the US army won WW2 and saved the world is every bit as moving as you would think. Falaise, Caen, Carentan, Arromanche, Bayeux are all there to see, complete with shermans, panthers, and mulberrys, and for a history buff like me it still raises the hairs on the back of my neck to think about it.

Meanwhile, the guzzi had been shipped to the only guzzi man in Normandy, in Flers, and on a Friday evening he very nicely let me watch him perform surgery on it. After about 2 hours he was holding the clutch pushrod in hi s hands, and showing me that it didn't fit the hole in the clutch plate properly.

Why?

Looking at each other, in a moment of hiberno-gallic entente, we both shrugged.

@#!#$# knows.

I left that particluar mystery to him. I hit the road for what turned out to be a 7 hour drive to Maastricht to meet up with the boys and girls at the euro guzzi meet. In my gay french registered Peugeot. Parp, Parp.

2 thing to note. French pop music is lousy on a Friday night. And probably every other night, so the stereo had tortured me until i hit musical sanctuary in Belgium, then it really started to rock in nederlanden.

The other thing was that i was driving the wrong car. Crossing the dutch border, 4 guys in a car spent 10 minutes trying to run me off the motorway. It was like something out of Kojak.

It seems I fitted the description of a frenchman going to holland to buy drugs, where it's legal. So i would have had loads of money on me. So they wanted to rob me.

I didn't know this at the time.

I just thought 4 big belgians were trying to kill me for a laugh.

I managed to shake them in my gay peugeot.

I arrived at the guesthouse about 30 minutes later, feeling a little in shock, 130am. This was turning into one of "those" trips.

Next morning, all was well, I was among friends. A Ride out was organised and in a moment of Hiberno-viking entente, Soren the danish spy lent me his V11 so I could join in the fun. i thereby forgave his ancestors for raping our monks and stealing our gold. The spin took in at least 4 countries, And if i say the person I spoke most to was Finnish, you'll get how international this particular brethern really is.

Back to the guesthouse for beer and a barbie. As i had missed the previous nights frivolities, I felt some catching up was required. I may have overdone it. Even ACDC can get tiring at 5am, if you're trying to sleep.

The next day was the usual goodbyes to people you never really see enough of, and one or two days a year doesn't really suffice. Oh well.

I made a slight detour to search for the"bridge too far" at Nijmegen,then a long drive back to normandy, another lovely day, wasted on 4 wheels.

Another night in france then the ferry back to England(on foot), then back to heathrow for a quick 3 day trip to Nairobi and back. And then finally home.

 

3 weeks later, I find myself back in Flers, picking up my Guzzi. In very broken franglaise, the nice guzzi man says he never figured out why the pushrod din't fit into the clutchplate. He just drilled the hole bigger. Now it fits. Another shrug.

I left Flers very confused. The bike felt normal now, the clutch behaving perfectly, the bike not missing a beat.But like a cuckolded lover, i could not get it out of my head it was going to blow up again. any miss, any bump, any imagined hiccup had me worrying like a turkey at Christmas.

I didn't know it at the time, but that was the last day of summer. It was wasted on me.

The next day, the last day, it pissed rain like the Gods had been collecting it all for me. I rode for 10 hours to get to the ferry at Roscoff, for the 12 hour trip to Ireland. Thoughts of hondas and bmws had been plaguing me for weeks now. I'm thinking of riding a norge across the states next year. Why the hell would I do it on a guzzi? The bastards keep breaking, and I don't even live in a country with a dealership. Its madness. My V11 has 16000 miles on it, and I,ve seen it on the back of a trailer 5 times. Granted once was completely my fault, but still....

Dark thoughts as black as the clouds overhead whirled around as i parked in the bike section of the queue for the ferry. I wasn't paying much attention, but there were 16 bikes there, all Irish, coming home from their trips. 13 were bmws.

I took off my helmet and looked around, Everyone was looking my way, most were grinning. It took a while to register.

Guzzis are a rare beast in Ireland, and I must have made an impression when I arrived.

You see these bikes do have a coolness about them. I love that. Its hard to quantify, but it's there nonetheless.

But,God, you pay for it.

[luhbo]

.... an appointment in Holland with some guzzitsi.....

 

 

Hehe, so the storie's best part's still to come

 

I have a route ready for DK already, btw. 800km straight up northbound. Seldom have planned something more suspect than this so far

 

hubert

[ferguzzi]

the office

[ferguzzi]

a german hunter killer tank. well, it's not technically a tank...

[ferguzzi]

arromanche beach, and the remains of part of one of the floating mulberry harbours. huge....

[ferguzzi]

not the best angle of a tenni...

[ferguzzi]

The beer tap in holland. A very guzzi friendly place...

[ferguzzi]

Finally on the road again. St Mere eglise, note the parachute attached to the church steeple.

[ferguzzi]

Finally, not a great shot. this is a view of Omaha beach, taken from the US cemetary.

[HaydnR]

Thanks for sharing your experience and pics

[Skeeve]

...A Ride out was organised and in a moment of Hiberno-viking entente, Soren the danish spy lent me his V11 so I could join in the fun. i thereby forgave his ancestors for raping our monks and stealing our gold.

 

Gold? What gold! England didn't have any gold until they started stealing it from Spanish treasure galleons coming back from the New World! There're no gold mines in England. Give it up!

 

The Vikings raped your sheep & stole your women [as usual, someone got the directions crossed up...]; your stupid monks tried to hitch a ride, telling them that if they just went to confession, all would be forgiven & they could continue their sheep-rustling. They didn't like getting caught out that they'd been going about it all wrong, so they killed your silly monks & went on worshiping Odin, who didn't need to forgive them for doing what they did best, but actually expected them to do so [a much more reasonable deity if I say so myself... ]

 

Sorry your Tenni let you down. It's probably the color: everyone knows green motorcycles are bad luck. Or is that only green Harleys? Tell you what, send your Tenni fairing & body work to me, & I'll swap it on my plain-vanilla LeMans nero. If it doesn't give me bad luck too, well then we'll know that only you shouldn't ride a green motorcycle! ;D

 

What? Sorry, can't hear you. Bodywork? Returned?? What bodywork? No thanks, I don't need any more...

 

Sounds like a wonderful trip, except for the part with the motorcycle not working right, the Belgian goons & the rain. As ride reports go, I give it an A+.

[fotoguzzi]

Great story! BMW's break down too... you had the best looking bike at the ferry for sure.

[Tom M]

Great report on a not-so-great trip Ferguzzi. Glad that you had a good time but sorry to hear that your Guzzi let you down yet again and you were forced to drive a French car. I still love my LeMans but if it gave me anywhere near the problems that some of you guys have had I would have moved on long ago.

 

On the other hand I'm happy to see that someone found a good use for the small block!

[Orson]

Soren the danish spy lent me his V11 so I could join in the fun. i thereby forgave his ancestors for raping our monks and stealing our gold.

 

 

Nice write up

 

Sorry about the clutch.

 

I have 70,000 km on my Tenni without any engine problems. I have had 4 rear wheel bearing though

[tikkanen]

Good to hear that your Tenni is up and running again, Fergal.

For those of you who weren't in Sibbe for the European V11 Rally I can assure you that Ferg was quite shocked after his near death experience with those Belgian hoodlums. Sure glad that it wasn't me but thank god Fergal managed to get away. Scary....

 

All the best

Søren