Pressure

We knew today was going to be tough. The map said it was a 164 mile journey and we had to be in Dusseldorf by 18:00 latest to catch the autozug transporter train that only runs once a week.
We started the day purposeful, by midday we were determined and by late afternoon we were desperate. Stopping all the time to check maps and directions really ate into average mph and although we accidentally got ourselves onto 3 motorway sections, generally avoiding motorways and sticking to A and B roads is a very slow way to travel.
We both agreed that thrashing along characterless bypasses isn't very interesting and so planned to avoid them thinking that we would have plenty of time to make the journey. However by mid afternoon things were looking extremely tight, we needed to get a shift on and those A roads were very welcome. The 2 Vespas rose to the occasion and blasted along those german roads. We had every reason to believe we could make that train.
Roadwork diversions, map stops and wrong turns cut deeper into our time and the pressure began to build. We were now starting to push to the front of traffic light queues and beating everyone off the start lines. We were ducking and diving through traffic. We were starting to panic. I even got to the point of making a "cosmic order" to get everything aligned so we could make that train.
We eventually made Dusseldorf and became lost in the centrum. We were knocking on the windows of cars at traffic lights "Bahnhoff? Bahnhoff?" we begged and confused drivers would point our direction - often necessitating us to U-turn (dangerously?) there and then. We had minutes to spare.
We found the sign to the Autozug (motor-rail) station and blasted in.
The check in office was closed. There were no waiting cars. It was 18:30. The train was departing at 18:44.
A man came out of his office. "closed" he said as he waved his arms.
"No. You can't be we've just ridden from hook of Holland to get here" we pleaded.
2 other men came out and a little chaos ensued while we begged at them in English and they discussed something among themselves in german.
"OK! Now! Fast!" he said pointing to a gate. Within seconds we were riding up a ramp and 5 men were lashing our still steaming hot and exhausted Vespas to the lower level of a motor-rail double decker car transporter. We were hurried off the transporter and into our passenger carriage - Scott losing his keys in the process.

We had made it by the skin of our teeth. Scott and I had cashed in our luck AND the cosmic order and we'd made it. The sense of relief was wonderful. We were sweating like pigs and laughing. Both amazed at what we (and the Vespas) had managed to achieve. We'd been in the saddle for 11 hours, covered nearly 200 miles and ridden through 2 countries and successfully persuaded a German train official to break the rules for us.

So here we are now all settled into our couchette with a young Begium couple who are graciously tolerating our smelly boots and boring chatter about the day. It is only now that the adrenaline has subsided and we've had a good meal of currywurst that we are starting to wonder how well those men lashed our bikes down. I seem to remember some straps around my front rack - if that is the case my bike is surely going to be on it's side in the morning. This could be another sleepless night of worry if I wasn't so doggone tired