Tooth- hurty (Tim)

I split a tooth while I was in Italy. It was a dodgy tooth anyway but it was finally a bit of cheese-puff that beat it. As this coming weekend is a Bank holiday I was keen to blag an emergency dental appointment for as soon as I got home which meant being up at the crack of Dawn (again) for the final leg of my trip from Hertford to Birmingham.
I wasn't really looking forward to this stretch. Partly because it signified the end of our adventure and partly because I had done this journey a couple of times now and I presumed it would be a little bit boring.
However once on the road it became apparent that a remarkable thing has happened to me over the course of this scooter adventure; I have become a much better rider. I am faster, I am more confident of my ability, I am more aware of the traffic, and I am more confident of my machine. All combined this made for a rather exhilarating ride home. I got lost of course - well I would do without Scott there - but even so managed to knock 20% off the time it took me to do the run a few weeks ago.
I got home with 30 minutes to spare before my dental appointment; enough time to unload the bike, put it in the garage and change my smelly clothes. I am not ashamed to say that I gave my Vespa a kiss as I closed the garage door. I love that scooter. Tomorrow I shall give her a well deserved clean down and rid her of all the accumulated bugs, dust and traffic grime.

I came out of the dentist at exactly the right comedy moment (2:30) with one less tooth in my head. It wasn't exactly what I was planning as a celebration of a 1124 mile Vespa adventure

Post Adventure Malaise (Scotty)

I arrived home (After a few calls at clients across London) at 18:15 last night, elapsed distance 981 miles, door to door. On an old Vespa. In seven riding days. It was great to see the family again, the boys have both had haircuts and look super grown-up, and Sam the 23 month old is now running everywhere and walking up steps rather than crawling. It was a good feeling to have made it home, and unpack the scooter and give Joanie and the boys a big hug.

This morning, however, I just couldn't get my act together, there are bits of scooter-journey-paraphernalia lying about poor Joanie's clean house. I couldn't find my work stuff, it took me ages to iron my shirt, it was all a mess. When I fired up the beast to head off to my first call in Hammersmith, the traffic was yucky and riding through Richmond Park didn't even cheer me up as it usually does. The post trip blues have struck majorly. I'm now sitting in an air-conditioned office with a couple of Macs on my desk and a huge pile of work to do. All I want to do is go downstairs, jump on the Vespa find some windy roads and stop when I run out of Britain. It would be nice at the coast today. Concentration is at a very low ebb.

That, or now that Tim is 150 miles away our bro-mance is over.

Perhaps a bit of both.

Perhaps time to start day dreaming about the next adventure.

Nearly home (Tim)

We parted ways at a junction on the A12 just west of Colchester. It was emotional. And as soon as I was riding alone I promptly became lost (both in the geographical and metaphorical sense) - I am lost without Scott.
Strangely, I felt more anxious and vulnerable driving along the busy A120 and A12 than I ever had on the roads in Italy, Holland and Germany. Maybe I was just feeling tired or maybe the English port roads really are much busier and more dangerous. I got off the 'A' roads as soon as I could and soon felt much more at ease with the snaking country roads. But boy was it chilly! The sun was out but the difference in air temperature between Holland yesterday and England today was remarkable. I had to stop and dig into my luggage to find the wind-stopper that I'd discarded 2 weeks earlier.

I checked a couple of times on that dripping oil but couldn't see any sign of a "flow" of oil - it's certainly wet down there but I decided that it wasn't enough to do anything about it there and then (and then I crossed my fingers)

Poor old Scotty was heading straight off to work with a client. I, however was off to stay the night with mum and dad before the final leg to Birmingham. As can only be expected on a trip like this, it just so happened that my brother was at mum and dads too - with the engine from his recently (this week) purchased Garelli Capri scooter! No, I'd never heard of it either - it turns out that his is quite rare and is going to need a lot of TLC to restore [if any readers have any knowledge to share about Garelli's, my bro would be eternally grateful]
We spent a lovely couple of hours in dads garage prising the piston rings out of thier carbonised grooves. It certainly is a cute little engine / transmission unit but nothing will tempt me away from the Vespa. I love my Vespa

Oh Oh!

Went to unstrap the bike from the car deck of the ferry this morning and horrors! There's a spot of oil on the floor under my gearbox.
Maybe it was there before I parked the bike?
A quick check reveals a little drip from the engine :-( it's not pouring out but it's certainly not right. We did push the bikes quite hard yesterday in terms of running hours and top speeds (long runs at an impressive 50mph!) so maybe this is to be expected??? But how much oil have I lost?

Now I wish I'd checked that gearbox oil before leaving Italy - fingers crossed (again) for a hassle free ride to my mum and dads today

Back in the UK (Scott)

After a brief nights sleep on the ferry (530am wake up call over the Tannoy) it was slightly sad to ride off the boat, the trip is nearly over, and life returns to normal.

Anyway one last job before we hit the UK roads proper, get legal and put the L plates back on (note Tim's surgeon gloves for the difficult and messy job of putting in four screws!. Tim reckons that we are professional Vespa riders now, and no longer mere learners, which I agree with, but I'm sure that the constabulary wouldn't. Nice to be back, glorious weather in Essex today.

Parting of the Vespas

OFFS who thought that waking passengers at 5:30am ready for a 6:30 disembarkation was a good idea?

Well this is it. After 2 weeks of being no more than 100 meters away from each other (and mostly only about 6 feet) Scotty and I must go our separate ways.
It's a sad moment

Getting through holland (Tim)

Today was always going to be a challenge. Our route was the reverse of our epic 12 hour run the previous week only this time we had an hour less to play with.
Getting out of Dusseldorf was a darn sight easier than getting into it and we seemed to fly along the roads heading north to Holland, our only stops to let flys and bugs out of our helmets - at one stage I felt like I was on "I'm a celebrity, get me out of here" as 2 moth like bugs walked back and forth across the inside of my visor.
The sun was hot today but we both still decided to wear our armoured jackets and trousers. We stepped up our pace a little to 50mph and the bikes seemed to respond well. At this speed the wind keeps you cool, but winding through back streets made you very hot and sweaty. I stopped for a wee on the side of the road at some stage and have to admit keeping my fly open a little longer than necessary just to enjoy the breeze round my sweaty crotch.
Getting out of Germany was pretty straight forward, but getting through Holland was once again stressful and longwinded. We had learnt from our outbound journey that holland has a fantastic network of cycle paths that scooters can use. Oddly when we ride on the road, other road users tell us to use the cycle paths, and when we ride on the cycle paths other cycle and scooter users tell us to use the road - in the end we pleased ourselves and used whatever was most advantageous.
While aimlessly riding round in circles in Rotterdam trying to find a way out we spotted by chance a cycle route sign identifying Hook van holland - 35km. It seems mad to me that cycle routes identify places 35kms away while road signs seem to only show local suburbs (none of which you have ever heard of or give clue to a general direction) as soon as we found this signage for HVH we were determined not to let go of this life line that would save us from eternal circling in this complicated city - even if it meant pissing cyclists off for riding on their assigned pathways. As we passed the sign that indicated the exit of Rotterdam, I laughed out loud as Scott in front stuck 2 fingers up to the city behind.

Today we spent 9.5 hours in the saddle covering 186 miles. Thats an average of 19mph..... We're improving!