Page 5 of 7 FirstFirst ... 34567 LastLast
Results 65 to 80 of 101

Thread: Discombobulation 2017

  1. #65
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Apr 2011
    Location
    Jamaica Inn
    Posts
    1,077
    "If the bike isn’t fixed, please will you come and have lunch with us".

    Going by the hospitality shown so far on this trip, I would have been secretly hoping the bike was not ready.

    Good reading Roberto.

  2. #66
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Oct 2008
    Location
    Drigdale
    Posts
    6,499
    I make no wonder your clutch got discombobulated with all that food...... sorry all those stickers

    Good stuff.

  3. #67
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530


    Quote Originally Posted by RJC View Post
    Great!
    as you well know sir!

    Quote Originally Posted by Mr K View Post


    Quote Originally Posted by dr nosh View Post
    ... Going by the hospitality shown so far on this trip, I would have been secretly hoping the bike was not ready.

    Good reading Roberto.
    Cheers I would have been interested to do that for sure. The time thing never made a difference anyway..

    Quote Originally Posted by Cooperman View Post
    I make no wonder your clutch got discombobulated with all that food...... sorry all those stickers

    Good stuff.
    Ta Quite possibly

  4. #68
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    Meh..

    So where were we, Ah yes, that’s right – so I’ve left Pombal and now am off in a North Easterly direction. I think I’ll just go in that general direction and then when the light starts to fade, I’ll turn in. Or maybe hit a motorway to crack on into the evening.

    Little roads though at the moment. I divert to a little town called Lousa for refreshment and a custard doughnut.



    It’s hot and quiet. As I sit down, the peace of the afternoon is disturbed by some guy wandering around shouting a lot at passers by and traffic. People stop.. folks hang from windows and stare. After a few minutes the little old woman from the café comes out shooing him away, holding a broom. She comes and puts her hand on my shoulder, and shrugs to say sorry about that.

    Funny old day..

    Back to it. I’m now crossing through the Serra de Estrala, pootling towards Spain. Late afternoon, 36 degrees. A quick drink stop for a coca-cola.



    I join up with some of the faster road to make up a few kms.

    My bike ticks over 60,000 miles. Oh- and if you look close can see a possible source of the water ingress on the Zumo too, the seal on one of the buttons having now fully given way. At the moment rain isn’t a problem though eh..



    So by now the temperature has crept up to 40 degrees - the late afternoon just seems to be getting hotter, rather than cooling down.

    Anyway - It was going well.

    Notice I say ‘was’.

    Until I go to shift.

    No clutch again.

    Aaaaarghhhh!! Not again!!!!! You really have got to be kidding me!

    So I’m in exactly the same situation as I was 48 hours ago- no clutch at all. Bloody Groundhog day! So I crash into 3rd and start the procedures and checklists for emergency landing. Yet again. Check for town, aim at town, find somewhere suitable to wait around, stall, curse, wait.

    The town of Trancoso is close by, so I make my way off the main road and in carefully. As I head in, there’s an Intermarche supermarket and on the right, a pizzeria café with chairs and tables outside, up opposite I do a nifty about turn and chug over to the café. Clunk, surge, stall.
    I go in and order a large super bock and neck it in one. Deep Breath. The girl behind the counter watches me carefully. I grab a large bottle of water and settle up.

    I phone my man at J&M to let him know what’s happened. He’s at a bit of a loss and apologetic as you’d expect. Unfortunately it’s late now and everyone has gone home, and of course I’m 150 odd miles away now. But he says to stay in touch and if he can do anything to let him know.

    I plonk the bike on the centre stand and pump the clutch to see if there’s any life. Barely anything. It just seems kind of academic now, but I’m developing a nervous pump clutch twitch. And I’m hardly going to damage it, I suppose.

    I call recovery and explain the situation. It’s not easy for them to digest, which to a certain extent I can sympathise with given all of the twists and turns of recent days, but after a bit of time the message is gotten across and they will get recovery organised. The funny part is the conversation: ‘So it was repaired.. by a BMW dealer?.. and you have the same problem again?’ They sort of find it hard to understand. For some reason though, I don’t..

    Being occupied with the calls, texting people and all I haven’t paid much attention to the dynamic and what’s going on outside the pizza café. I’m parked twenty or so yards away and happily not getting a great deal of attention. Sat in silvery patio chairs there are a group of what I assume locals, who look to be a generally sour faced and scruffy bunch. Adjacent to them, separately there’s a group of firemen, wearing red polo shirts with ‘Bombeiros’ written on the back. The firemen are dirtied and look weary. Both groups are kicking back with beers. Fires weren’t far away, and so it’s pretty safe to assume I reckon this is what the fireman guys have been attending to.
    All doesn’t seem right between the two groups. There’s a bit of finger pointing and words exchanged and this goes on.
    I pump the clutch a bit more.
    More locals, and more Bombeiros appear over time and the groups get bigger. Beers stack up on the tables with the girl serving buzzing around frantically. For a pizza place, there’s not a great deal of pizza about.

    It’s been over an hour now. The atmosphere as well as the weather continues heated. And then- one of the silver chairs comes flying across to the firemen with a crash, at which point things start to get very animated. The groups merge- pushing, shoving, fists, glass breaking.

    This would appear to be my cue- it doesn’t seem all that wise to hang about. Call me old fashioned if you will, but I don’t fancy forming part any knuckle draggers’ skirmish anecdotes. My now OCD reflex of pumping the clutch proved worthwhile- some bare crumbs of life, enough for a gear selection and a brisk exit.

    Up the hill towards the centre of Trancoso now - and there’s a sign for a hotel. So with a left turn and another left turn, and traffic in my favour I roll up to the hotel. By now its nearly 9pm.
    I book in at a very reasonable rate. The place looks very nice and great for pot luck. I roll the bike into the car park as suggested by the helpful receptionist.



    I go to the room, update the breakdown people on events. They say no problem, and that they’ll be in touch in the morning. I then dunk myself in the bath to reflect on another series of shall we say, unanticipated events and contemplate my next move.

    I’d forgotten about dinner and the time. It is a bit late. So a change and down to reception. The hotel restaurant is closed. Similar to the other night with Mr. Alberty, it doesn’t seem there are many people staying here and that seems kind of sad for such a nice spot. I ask- can I get anywhere to eat. The girl looks at her watch ‘Everything closes at 10pm, so you must hurry’. It’s 9.50, and about a seven minute walk to the centre. Not looking good. She outlines a couple of places in town to try, the best option directly in the centre, in a straight line, in front of you and upstairs once I get to the square. I flip flop off in much haste, determined not to be beaten.

    Into the town through the castle walls as directed..



    I find the upstairs restaurant really simply. I pass a lady, in kitchen regalia outside leaning up against a pillar having a cigarette. I bluster past with a smile and hello. Boa noite..!
    Upstairs the young waiter is looking at me with dismay. He speaks English, happily for me again, but he shakes his head and says sorry, but we close at ten.
    The lady from downstairs re-appears.
    She joins us and the waiter and her speak. She turns to me: ‘English?’ she says. ‘You look sad. Beefsteak and fries OK?’ with a shrug and a smile. It might seem such a little thing, but I could have hugged her until her head popped off. ‘Anything, that’s fine!’ The young waiter beams, and we have a deal.
    I order everything at once. Large beer, Large red wine, water, bread, olives, bits, bobs.



    I don’t dawdle so everyone can pack up, fair’s fair and all that. I plough through, overtaking a family still having dessert, and ask to settle up, whereby I’m given a bill for the princely sum nine euros and thirty cents..
    I leave full and happy with my spirits lifted and with a reputation as a huge tipper

    There’s a band out playing in the square. I find a seat out in a bar and get a beer – one euro and five cents. It’s certainly pretty reasonable in this part of the world.



    My tip for the waiter results in a wheelbarrow size portion of nuts. A few more beers caps the night off.

    Lemons and all that..


  5. #69
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    Plan C

    You’ve probably gathered by now this is all only going one way.

    Morning again. I’m exactly where I’m not supposed to be. Again. Clamber out of bed, wander down to the restaurant for breakfast to work out what to do next. It’s barely 8am, but with the time it takes to sort things in this situation I want to start on the front foot early.



    Can’t say I’m in the best of moods this morning.

    “Problems are there to be sorted, he said… detours are there to be got around” he said. Silly sod..



    I’ve finally found someone whom I’d call good in the recovery assistance firm. Her name is Lauren and she’s very competent and helpful. She is arranging recovery and what is next and will call back in the next hour.

    Meantime, I raise a few laughs courtesy of some old comedy on the web..



    Lauren calls as promised. The update is the bike will be recovered to another dealer, I assume in Guarda, but that isn’t clear at the moment and will be confirmed. The recovery driver will be here in an hour.

    Shortly before the recovery driver arrives, I get another call back. The dealer won’t be able to look at the bike before Monday given it is now Saturday morning. I kind of expected that.
    The problem though for me now, is though I’m timed out, and need to get home so I can get back to work next week. Lauren understands and is off to speak with her Manager.

    Another call back, and what you might think to be the worst is confirmed. The bike will be repatriated and I’m to fly back to London from Porto.
    A taxi will be organised to take me to Porto. Making the best of the situation, I arrange to fly out tomorrow, and that way at least I get to see some of Porto. Ironically, that was a place I quite wanted to see when Brian and I were talking about planning, but that didn’t work out. At least I’ll get to see it.

    Time suddenly becomes of the essence. I need to get the bike prepared and pack up what I can’t carry so it’s back to the room to do the necessary.



    I hot foot it to the bike, pack up..



    .. get the bike out ready to be picked up..



    .. out of the room, check out of the hotel and sit back on the comfy reception sofas and relax.

    Time seems to slow down a bit. Pretty much start to feel bored. I have the ferry booked for tonight and that’s not going to happen, clearly I’ll not be bobbing across Biscay, pint in hand later. Having booked so late it would seem unlikely I can cancel but I figure it’s worth a conversation. I speak to a very friendly chap and explain the circumstances. If nothing else, he is sympathetic. Let me look into it for a minute’ he says. ‘OK’ he comes back. ‘I can’t cancel it, but what I can do is book you onto another crossing with us and refund you the difference’. So I’m put to a random channel crossing in October, and am refunded just over 300 quid, which all considered a £60 or so loss is a good result. That’s a tick in the box for Brittany Ferries.

    Fella arrives, bike is loaded up.



    I feel a bit sad when I watched the bike slowly disappear down the road.




  6. #70
    Son of Ah Knah Yee Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Nov 2004
    Location
    The North East
    Posts
    40,817
    PUI since 2004


    [url=https://www.TickerFactory.com/]


  7. #71
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2010
    Location
    In The Here and Now
    Posts
    4,466
    Just read it all in a go Rob and enjoyed it
    Trials and tribulations indeed but all handled and sorted, well done

  8. #72
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Aug 2010
    Location
    Paradise
    Posts
    20,664
    Time for a new bike!

  9. #73
    Son of Ah Knah Yee Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Nov 2004
    Location
    The North East
    Posts
    40,817
    Quote Originally Posted by The Nutty GSER View Post
    Time for a new bike!
    ...Non-believer!

    Looking forward to your views on Porto, Francesihna and catraio.....
    PUI since 2004


    [url=https://www.TickerFactory.com/]


  10. #74
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Oct 2008
    Location
    Drigdale
    Posts
    6,499
    Quote Originally Posted by The Nutty GSER View Post
    Time for a new bike!
    An auto Honda?

  11. #75
    Never knowingly understood Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Nov 2005
    Location
    South Yorkshire
    Posts
    15,954
    Quote Originally Posted by Mr K View Post



    Adventure.GS
    Tours, training or custom made earplugs ... it's all here.

    "If you want the rainbow then you have to put up with a little rain" Dolly Parton

  12. #76
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Aug 2012
    Location
    Manchester (near)
    Posts
    248
    Quote Originally Posted by Mr K View Post
    ...Non-believer!

    Looking forward to your views on Porto, Francesihna and catraio.....
    Can he handle a francesinha??

    Sent from my Moto G (4) using Tapatalk

  13. #77
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    Quote Originally Posted by UturnTony View Post
    Just read it all in a go Rob and enjoyed it
    Trials and tribulations indeed but all handled and sorted, well done
    Cheer Tony, hope all well with you mate

    Quote Originally Posted by The Nutty GSER View Post
    Time for a new bike!
    Nah, I'll still be keeping this one..

    Quote Originally Posted by Mr K View Post
    ...Non-believer!
    Exactly!

    Quote Originally Posted by Mr K View Post
    Looking forward to your views on Porto, Francesihna and catraio.....
    Quote Originally Posted by Joca View Post
    Can he handle a francesinha??
    Coming up..

  14. #78
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    Pedestrian Report

    I’m reminded of a funny part of the classic comedy ‘Porridge’. It’s when Mr. Barraclough’s bicycle is stolen. Fletcher’s line goes something like ‘Am I to understand you arrived a cyclist, and left a pedestrian..’

    Seems kind of appropriate. And so, that’s how the next bit goes.

    The taxi arrives to take me off for the two hour ride to Porto. It’s a toothless chap in a battered Ford Galaxy. This guy has not the one, but two mobile phones on the go. He drives for a time with one in each hand clutching the steering wheel beneath. ‘For fuck’s sake mate’ I have to point out. One is abandoned, but I think it’s mandatory to have the one on hand. His driving is crap.

    I have a listen to Test Match Special and my mind can wander off.

    A short while later, we’re stopped outside some depot or other in some out of town industrial barnacle or other. I’m no Judith Chalmers, but this is most definitely not Porto. ‘Petrol’ declares the toothless man. Not much happens for a few minutes, and then a fat kid comes along and gets into the back of the car. We move off, and in a few minutes we’re outside a house with a taxi parked outside. He points at the taxi and we’ll be changing vehicles.
    The fat lad disembarks, peers through the window to me and delightedly proclaims ‘Now you have a woman!’, and then promptly waddles off.
    He’s right though. A mumsy looking and slightly bemused looking woman emerges from the house and opens the boot of the Octavia. Stuff is transferred and we’re off.
    It’s better. The car is nicer, the driving is better, there’s no mobile phones and the going is easy motorway. Relax and a but more of those soothing Aggers tones from the cricket in the headphones.



    A bit later again now, and we’re coming into Porto. At this point, the woman gestures that she doesn’t know where she’s going, and points at my Phone. I get the GPS rolling and guide her in a twenty minute or so drive. Good technology.
    She shakes my hand and politely bids me farewell, and disappears off into the city traffic.

    The hotel reception chap offers me a glass of port over check in. How very civilised.

    A quick drop of stuff and out into the city..



    First impressions of Porto are really positive. It’s a cool place. The vibe reminds me of Berlin. Lots to see on a beautiful sunny day..





    Cool record shop..







    All this walking, thirsty work. Time for one of those I guess.



    And a stop at Café Santiago for a Francesinha



    So this was a new one on me. I actually thought was ok, but not to die for (I’ll probably be burned as a heretic now..) Service was great though, and a very interesting place to people watch if that’s your thing. People turning out from all over. On a table next to me, four young girls from Japan sat down ordered one and carefully sliced it up between them.

    More wandering about. Come across this folklore festival. Strange old stuff. The music was very odd.



    On to the Louis I bridge. Not much to separate the sightseers from the trains/trams. Behind me the line sank into a tunnel in the hill. It was odd to see cyclists coming in and going out..



    Quite spectacular views. I suddenly fancy a glass of Port.. wonder why..





    Back to the hotel for a change and then out for a stroll. Really enjoying the place.



    As I said, vibrant. Lots to do for the eyes.



    As Mr K mentions, I’m dropping into the recommended Catraio craft beer shop to sample a few..



    I’m enjoying my peace but seated next to me is an American chap and some others. He’s very loud and I can’t help but find him annoying…



    ..so I have a stroll off, destined for another place I’d looked up.
    It’s no bother as I’m enjoying the sights.







    My next stop is a new craft beer place called Letra. It’s only been open a few months.



    Refreshment. This beer is from Moscatel barrels. It’s superb. I get one to take home.



    A tiny place but the downstairs area leads to an enormous beer garden..



    I chat with the barman, an ex-Policemen from Brazil’s Rio.



    A really interesting guy who was working to improve his knowledge and wanted to open a beer bar of his own. I think Porto will be a good place for that.

    After a few more beers with the time after 1am I head off into the night. Have to be up early..

    So I’ve really enjoyed my brief encounter with Porto, and resolve to be back as soon as I can. The ramble thoroughly recommends!

  15. #79
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    Heading home

    A different kind of breakfast scene, in the departure lounge at Porto Airport. Not the finish I quite anticipated.





    If this thing has got a clutch, please check it



    Seeya, Porto..



    We fly over L’Orient in France and I get a chance to Study the Island of Groix and beyond. I make my mind up for future mini ramble there. Watch this space



    I get to Stansted. It’s pretty chaotic and all of my best intentions to catch the train are replaced when I order an Uber. I apologise to the taxi drivers of Portugal, as I’ve found someone actually worse (Firstly needing detailed supervision to actually make out of the car park, and then trying to turn the wrong way into oncoming traffic on the dual carriageway..)
    Thankfully it’s not a long run home. I’m pleased to report we make it. Feels strange to be home this way.

    Another present on the welcome mat..



    ..along with a car insurance renewal that assumes I’ve switched to a Bugatti Veyron.

    Sod it let’s go for a pint.



    Typical

  16. #80
    Subscriber Click here to find out how to Subscribe
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Location
    London
    Posts
    2,530
    The End

    I check over my e-mails.

    ‘Some news about your National Lottery Ticket’. Had my luck changed finally?

    I signed in to my account, and I had won £2.90 on the Euromillions

    Oh well.

    Despite everything I still had a great trip.

    Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. It certainly raised a few smiles writing it up.
    Stay tuned for the next Ramble




Page 5 of 7 FirstFirst ... 34567 LastLast

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •  

Anyone attending a Ride Out or Event organised through the UKGSer Forums does so at their own risk.
UKGSer.com or anyone organising an event posted here will not be held responsible in any way for damage or personal injury sustained while attending any such events.

Members attending any such event do so at their own risk.

The text, images, graphics, sound files, animation files, video files, and their arrangement on this Website are all subject to copyright and other intellectual property protection. These objects may not be copied for commercial use or distribution, nor may these objects be modified or reposted to other sites without prior written permission.

Disclaimer: Use or depiction of the BMW logo or trademark throughout this web site is for illustrative and editorial purposes only, and to the benefit of the trademark owner, with no intention of infringement of the trademark.

The UKGSer Forums may include adult content for which it cannot be held responsible. Your use of this website constitutes acceptance of the UKGSER network privacy policy

"Its about being a grown up hooligan - and if that means a dark visor, remus open pipe and a bit of speeding out of town then all well and good"