Paris ride-out 2006

Paris Ride-out 2006-03-24/5/6

Vendredi Samedi Dimanche Le Retour

So there I am, bimbling up the A16, when there's a dreadful 'vibrating' bit of road. I could hear all the car tyres making a noise as well, when suddenly BANG CRACKLE CRACKLE - I thought Rocketman had turned up on his Harley and was right in front of me...

Pulled into the side, and saw that the exhaust pipe had sheared right off, about 7cm from the engine casing. It was still solidly in the clamp, so maybe it wasn't the exhaust collar that had gone earlier, it had been a crack in the pipe itself.

Tried the Carole Nash International rescue, and stupidly choose their 'press a number' option, instead of hanging on without doing so to bypass the queue. 15 mins later the mobile's batteries peg out.

Nothing for it then but to plug ahead to an Aire (layby with proper phones etc). Get to Aire Haut-Clocher, and guess what, the phones don't take UK cards. GRRR.... I pluck up my courage (and tremble at the possible effect on my wallet) and go to the emergency telephone. A rescue vehicle will be with me in 30 mins...

Here, those in the UK will recognise the cue for a 2 hour wait, but no, we are in France, even though it is Sunday evening, and the rescue lorry turns up bang on cue.

What a nice chap. He spoke virtually no English, and my French hasn't the best of vocabulary, but with a look at the damage, and taking into account the fact that (a) the bike basicly worked and (b) I was hi-tailing it out of France, he suggested I accepted a Dépanneur Agréé VL, basicly a pre-paid fine and sick-note to show to any lurking Gendarmes. I did *not* want hassle with the French Police. The other alternative would be much more trying and time consuming - taking me to the depot for the night, and seeing if the bike could be locally repaired.

So I get out my insurance documents, and he phones Carole Nash, deliberately *NOT* going through their menu. Ah, the chap the other end doesn't speak French, so I speak to him, explain the situation, and give him the French mobile's number for a French-speaker to phone back on. 5 minutes later all is sorted, Carole Nash stump up the EUR145.50, and I follow my new friend to his depot to get a photo-copy for the Gendarmes. Naturally I give him a 'drink', he was most surprised and delighted. Good bloke.

I now earplug to the max, and set off for Coquelles and the Shuttle, stopping at Aire Baie du Somme for petrol, causing some consternation...

As soon as I had petrol on board, the rain and wind started with a vengeance, and I didn't dare take the bike over 50mph, so it took another hour and a half to get to the Shuttle.

At passport control they were much amused, and luckily the police chap there was a biker. When I explained where I lived, and that I would be on motorway or dual-carriageway for all but the last 1/4 mile, he reckoned I should just wing it home without any further ado.

I had to wait about 30 mins in the pouring rain to get on the Shuttle, and when I was called and got off the centre stand, the bike still wouldn't roll easily - yup, the pipe had finally decided to part company with bike, and is probably still at the head of a Shuttle queue in France...

I went to take a photo or two while on the Shuttle, and this horrid fat old-aged English bloke with Ferrari, dolly bird and a very bad French accent roared at me "Pas Flash!". Well I wasn't going to use flash, was I? "Mais oui, pas de Flash" I respond. Grr...

It took over 2 hours to get home from Folkestone, as I had to stay under 60, and went the long way round via the M3. But I did get home, safe and well, with wonderful memories of good friends, old and new.

Bike's now with JT, no rush as I have Umfaan to play with!