The journey to France
Well after months of planning and organising it was the day
for the off, and our European tour was going to begin. The morning was bright
with broken clouds and everything had been checked and double checked. I was the only one left to get fuel as
everyone else had had the hindsight to fuel up already.
Soon the cars were packed and the time had come to depart. I
raced off ahead to fuel up and the others were to meet me at the garage. I had
had a quick look at the travel and knew that the M25 was going to be block no
matter which way we went, so once fuelled we headed off towards the Dartford
crossing, the journey was pleasant for a motorway ride. The sun was shining the
world was many shades of green, the fields bright yellow with the rape harvest
in full bloom. Yes it was lovely a means
to an end to get to the chunnel quickly.
However after we’d gotten through the road works with little
fuss we came to a halt just two junctions from the Dartford crossing. We then
averaged about 6mph for the last 8 miles. The heat from the engine was at some
points too much. We juggled our way through the toll booths and headed toward
the M20 travelling slowly so everyone had a chance to catch up. The M20 was
empty as we soon were making good time so I decided to take the opportunity to
make a quick stop at the services. This proved to be a very popular decision as
everyone was in need of a stretch.
After a short break, and time not
really on our side we made the last 20 mile dash to the chunnel. Well we would
have but my bike decided it wasn’t happy starting; I was a bit annoyed as I had
just brought a brand new battery. We got it started and headed off. Although
when we did arrive my bike decided to stop. It is here with hind sight that I
should have stopped my holiday and called the recovery service to collect me
and take me home, but NO! I pushed the bike through the barrier and stopped the
other side. I then managed to get a jump start and headed to the train. I rode
through all the check points and the train was in sight but the bike wasn’t
happy and decided to stop again. I decided that I could push it the last 100
yards and deal with the problem the other side. Surely it was only a battery
and like you can get them anywhere, RIGHT!?! We were on the train in time for
our scheduled departure and France was now just minutes away.
The journey through the tunnel was a nice rest bite, but the
bike was dead. There was no life in the battery and on the turn off the key the
dash glowed dimly. Had I made the wrong decision to push on? It was a bit late
now to have second thoughts, but I wasn’t going to let it spoil the holiday. We
called for help via the help button and I requested a jump start, the people on
the train were exceedingly helpful and got me going again. Surely if I could
just get to the first hotel, buy a cheap battery charger and charge the battery
overnight all would be ok. But as we left the station my engine management
light lit up. I didn’t want to take the chance the hotel was about 30 miles
from the station and most of that would be motorway so I pulled in at the
services and regretfully admitted defeat. The recovery people were called and
we sat the long sit awaiting their arrival. Finally they arrived, in the traditional
late fashion, a promised thirty to forty minutes obviously was translated wrong
and should have been an hour to an hour and a half. I said to the recovery
driver, I just need a battery. He looked at me and said “I check”. I just
wanted to get back on the road and was convinced all I needed was a new
battery. We managed to jump the bike and as it ran he tested the charge. It was
knackered there was no charge coming from the bike at all, so sadly she was
raised on to the back of the truck and taken away.
With what I was told, there was little hope of me seeing her
again this holiday. The mechanic said I will get your bike to the specialist
Monday, but the recovery agent said there will be no one open tomorrow as its
Sunday and bike shops in France don’t open on a Monday. My brain calculated
that if the bike got to the shop on Tuesday, they most likely wouldn’t look at
it until Wednesday, order parts and if lucky fix it Thursday or Friday, by
which time we should be in Switzerland.
It was now dark; I had to put behind me what had happened
and deal with the situation now. We had reshuffled the luggage and seating
arrangements and headed to the hotel. I had planned to avoid driving at night
but this was a necessary evil. It was not nice but some 40 minutes later we had
arrived at our accommodation for the night
No one had eaten since lunch, but with the stress of what
had happened no one was hungry. So we went to our rooms and bedded down for the
night to see what tomorrow would bring.
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