every trick I ’ d learnt over the last eighteen years ( including begging ) but nothing worked so there it stayed .
The following day was a public holiday for the Melbourne Cup , the annual society horse-race . I like the occasional flutter so put a bet on . I thought my luck was changing for the better when I picked the winning horse in the sixth race but on checking the betting slip saw that I ’ d put my $ 5 on the wrong horse .
A simple sewing job went wrong when instead of shortening the sleeves of a shirt , I carelessly shortened the same sleeve twice . What WAS going on ? On the way to attempt starting the bike again , I bought a gel battery to replace the wet cell one in case that was the problem but with no success , the only riding I did was by tow-rope to the nearest mechanic . He couldn ’ t start it either so we had to leave it there . As we rode away , my poorlysecured motorcycle jacket containing my set of spare keys fell off the back of my companion ’ s bike never to be seen again .
The mechanic found that the backplate , which enables adjustments to be made to the timing , had slipped . He ’ d glued it in place and got it started . So did I the following morning but I rode the bike away with rather less money in my bank account and a bungee strap holding up the kick-starter because the return spring had broken . At least I was on the road again . An Enfield parts stockist supplied a new spring which was straightforward to fit , thanks to a YouTube video , and our host ’ s spacious , airy workshop . Then the speedo drive became dislodged and would not fit on the front wheel until a spacer fashioned from a yellow , plastic bottle-top , fitted by my innovative companion did an excellent job .
At last we prepared to do some touring but my previously entirely continent motorcycle suddenly developed an oil-leak starting with a few drops on the concrete floor of the workshop but ending up in a torrent . I opened the primary chain case to check if the gasket was sealing properly and found bits of metal swarf underneath the rotor . It looked serious .
An internet search revealed a mechanic who boasted expertise with English bikes and I rode my Indian Enfield there , across the busy city , keeping the revs up in case it stalled and wouldn ’ t start again . It was now feeling and sounding very rough .
The ferry was booked to go to Tasmania but there was plenty of time . Whilst confident that the bike was in good hands , I was embarrassed and in despair at the situation . This was not how I ’ d imagined this trip . I felt like a victim , not an optimistic round-the-world
TRAVERSE 59