TRAVERSE 83
The large white building loomed out of the dusk as I passed. My bike was given shelter for the night in a wine-cellar alongside a flashy red Ducati, owned by a German couple who were also travelling through France. I hope it didn’ t feel intimidated( the Ducati, I mean.) I then headed to the hills and found the prettiest place ever for lunch. The outside dining area under the trees overlooked a lake. Little flowers from the trees dropped into my rosé wine and on to the plate of whitebait who looked surprised to be showered by the tiny yellow petals.
The charming waitress replaced my half drunk glass of wine as it had flowers in it.
“ This could go on all afternoon” I thought dreamily as I finished off with homemade alcoholic ice-cream.
I stayed nearby and explored this quietly soft area, the Parc du Pilat which led me all the way to Lyon.
After a night at a Formule 1 hotel, I had a superb day with my daughter whose meeting lasted only two hours leaving us the rest of the day to eat, drink and talk our way around the majestic city.
I wobbled my way to the Enfield mechanic and explained the problem. The work couldn’ t start until the morning so I asked about nearby accommodation. After a phone call to his partner, I was whisked off in the owner’ s motorcycle racing sidecar to his home an hour’ s ride out in the country.
“ This’ ll be fun”, I thought as I climbed in with my overnight stuff. We tore along the dual carriageways and through the underpasses of Lyon with my nose inches away from the car in front. Suddenly Francois would dodge out and overtake and I found I was gripping my bag with terror. My early smile became a grimace of fear and my eyes widened as I read the makers’ marks stamped on the car exhaust pipes, so close and near the road surface was I.
I’ m not easily scared but I was terrified, laughing insanely as one does on a theme park ride you wish you hadn’ t gone on when it’ s too late to get off. He probably misinterpreted my screams as enjoyment and cranked up the speed. I was glad when this fairground ride stopped in a village heaven knows where; road signs had just been a blur. He and his partner lived in a very large garage. With them reside dozens of motorbikes, an old car and a St. Bernard dog.
The motorbikes were a mixture of makes, some of them prototypes and all of them unique or rare. He and Adele raced at local circuits on Sundays and were building a new outfit. Good for them but I’ ll go slowly on my Enfield, thank you! They were very kind and I had a great evening with them, looking at all the bikes.
Back at the workshop the following morning, after driving more sedately in Adele’ s car, I learned that a complete new steering head stock bearing had to be sent from Paris.
Concerned about taking advantage of their hospitality again, I wondered out loud where to spend the following days. My query was answered by a handsome customer in the parts shop who invited me to stay with him. He said he would be happy to show me the sights of the city whilst my bike was being repaired. I accepted his invitation and stayed with Christophe for three days in his flat overlooking the river.
TRAVERSE 83