Stepping on the gas,

At 4 o'clock in the morning the Yamaha gets a kick under its butt for the 1100 kilometer return ride to Panama City. Here are, finally, the parts that the ANWB has sent, and that have to solve the braking problems. After the kamikaze action on a steep track in Guatemala I don't feel really safe. Driving a little slower is also a solution but well…. It is pitch dark and together with some trucks and thousands of stars looking upon us, we drive in eastern direction towards the daybreak. The Carretera InterAmericana is interesting at some places, with huge "potholes" that you don't see until you drive straight through them with 120 km per hour
At about half past six the counter shows already 270 km. The sun crawls over the horizon and while the pump attendant fills the petrol tanks it is time for my daily fruit and a good piss against a very sad little tree.
Somebody always comes along for a chat, not that I have much to report in my infant Spanish, but there is always something to laugh about and shaking hands is a must….People can be so very beautiful.

At 10 o'clock I enter the office of the Royal Boskalis, the world's biggest dredging company, where Bernard Bezemer rules. After an incidental earlier meeting he promised to help me clear the goods. The Customs can be capricious here and with a packet weighing 40 kilo coming from Holland, that will be no different.


After a few phone calls in fluent Spanish everything seems arranged and I can go to DHL at the international airport. Within an hour all formalities are done and I leave with a really big box. When I am at the end of the airport territory suddenly a fellow with cap and stripes pulls down the barrier. He wants me to stop and pay import duties. The explanation that the goods are needed for repair work on the motorbike does not help until he sees that the moped has a flat back tire. A blessing in disguise this is because I can leave without turning a hair. At Boskalis the tyre is fixed again and after a cuppa and a chat about travelling, careers and how dredging can be done differently, I leave for my retreat. With a severe side-wind and the crazy surprise box on the back, I sing Saint Nicolas songs and coincidently stop at exactly half past 6 at the same filling station for the same ritual. My freight leads to lively conversations and everybody wants to know what is in it and if there still is a place for me on the bike. People seem genuinely cheerful and in for a joke and blabbering is appreciated. A tin of cold spinach, 2 currant buns and a paprika are my culinary highlight of the day.
Under a clear sky and the shining of the winking moon I drive the last 270 kilometres. I get out of the saddle after 11 hours and 1080 kilometres of steering, with a terrible wooden bum. As happy as a child I cut open the box and look in astonishment at the expert work of Frank Mos, Erik Ekelmans and Kees Besseling. An excellent job they did !! With this I turn my moped into the best braking XTZ 660 there is and satisfied I fall asleep, secretly dreaming about new journeys….