Chapter 4 - Brussells came and went and we were deep into Luxembourg

'We slumped like leather trash'

I awoke the morning of the quest proper having only succeeded in fitfully sleeping and then luggaged up, rode to work. Work started at 9.00am and I was due to finish at 6pm.

Ed rang during the day saying he had difficulty locating his passport, but he had printed of an AA web guide - know where you are and where you are going every fifty yards of the way, fifty page dossier with pull out guide to the best breakfast etc etc blah blah boredom bullshit…’ I pointed out that, that’s what maps were for and I wasn’t stopping every few miles to turn the fucking pages and figure out if we’d gone past the stunted Oak etc etc. Town to town at a glance was the way to go. I vowed to buy some up to date maps on the ferry or at least in the way stations where we would be fuelling up our supercharged beasts of V-twin thunder. Somehow I knew we were going to need them.

At 5.30 pm the lads arrived at the shop awaiting the end of my working day. Eddie had not found his passport, blaming his wife for tidying up, but he had found his previous one, full up, the corner clipped off and only a year out of date. He was relying on the basic laziness of customs officers just cursorily glancing at the docs through glassy eyed boredom and waving us on. Once in Euro land there were only lines on the map to impede our progress.

6PM Time to split the workplace and bomb off to Dover to catch the ferry at 8ish heading for Dunkerque, with the time difference we were due to land at about 11.30pm.
The ferry journey was a bit of a compromise. On one hand I had to work that day so we had no choice but to take the night ferry, but what it did mean was less traffic, so hopefully swifter progress, we could get a move on and then find a B&B or summat on the other side once we had a few miles under our belts. The only problem was slightly impaired vision (i.e. Eddie would not be able to read his bullshit sheaf of papers). Luckily I had bought a map and committed to memory our most practical route town by town. From France it was a short hop into Belgium, through Brussels and then into Luxembourg.

It was drizzling and dank in Dunkerque and the proposed ‘steady as she goes’ intent was binned within 5 miles. Naturally (as all true red blooded two wheelers released from the leash that is UK roads) we went for it, negotiating the way as quickly as we possibly could.
It soon became evident that Phil’s TLS needed gas a lot sooner than Ed and I’s TLR’s. Consequently we were assured of a coffee and cigarette break every 100 miles.

Brussels came and went and we were deep into Luxembourg territory before we decided to take a longer breather, with a pocket full of three different currencies (oh yes my friends before the Euro sorted all that nonsense out) it was early morning. We decided to try and find a place to kip for a few hours. I don’t know about the others but my eyes were starting to strain and the onset of neck ache was starting to impinge upon my riding comfort.

We were close to the border of Belgium and Germany at about 5am before we found a suitable establishment on the side of the motorway in which we hoped to get our heads down.

The nadir of the night had passed and though it wasn’t wet it was still very cold. We pulled in, creaked out of our saddles and tried to get into the motel. First we had to get through the outer defences, mashing the button for reception we were met with words to the effect, ‘sorry no room at the inn’, sorry we are not even going to let you in the lobby; sorry we don’t open until 6.30am - Bastards!!

Cold, hungry and by now pissed off we slumped like leathered trash on the steps finding whatever shelter we could in the entrance porch cursing their Teutonic mothers and their shit attitude. I think Eddie managed to close his eyes for half an hour and Phil looked crumpled up enough to grab some extreme ZZZZZZ’s. Alas they bagged to the best corners and though tired I was restless, the bastards were not going to let us in and we were wasting time. As far as I was concerned we might just as well carry on.
I had now been awake for 24 hours but had enough energy reserves to continue for a while yet. A hour later just after dawn with fresh morning sunshine spilling it’s early glow over the horizon we set off again, the morning would bring some welcome warmth and riding at high speeds in daylight was also considerably easier than squinting through sodium punctuated Stygia.

We stopped for gas next in Germany. This must have been a well known way station because it was full of travellers buying up large quantities of cheap cigarettes. We stopped and ordered some brekky in the café nearby to recharge the failing batteries.

Food is fuel (as well as a shit waiting to happen) it tends to make me drowsy, a weird one. I knew I had to eat to grab some energy but the very act of eating and digesting it makes me feel tired. However heartened and slightly plumper we set off again. After another four hours or so on the road the tiredness was starting to really bite, my vision was starting to wander and blur and I could feel my reactions slowing down. I was desparate to close my eyes, my body was getting close to shutdown. The next fuelstop would have to include some R & R otherwise the ‘crash & burn’ scenario after a silly mistake would rear it’s ugly head. We were still riding at over 100mph whenever possible with this pretty much our minimum pace