Waiting for the bike to cool , the debate about whether to continue the fun and venture deep into the forest , or to turn back to civilisation to sort out the battery had ended abruptly when I ’ d discovered that Icebear had gone missing . I had been devastated to lose him and suddenly retracing our tracks had been the only option . Happily , reunited , the three of us headed south along the highway . Near Susurluk , we came across a young guy in jeans and sporty bike jacket on the side of the road looking distraughtly at his stranded DRZ . We stopped to see if we could be of help .
Ali had bought the blue and white trail bike that morning in Istanbul and was heading via Izmir back to his home in Ankara when the bike suddenly died . Did we have any jumper cables ? Ali was convinced the battery was flat - apparently a notorious problem with these DRZs . Given our own battery troubles we had the cables handy , but the bike would not start up .
We hadn ’ t disconnected the cables yet when a local mechanic stopped to help . He listened to the laborious efforts of the starter motor and was quick to announce that the piston had seized , the cam chain was broken , the valves were bent , and a top-end engine rebuild was necessary . This sounded a little extreme to us . But the mechanic was certain and would say no more about it . Not how Ali had imagined his first weekend ride .
Thoroughly disappointed , he decided he would crate the bike and ship it to Ankara where a mechanic he knows , and trusts , could have a look at it . The local area ' s only autorecovery man showed up a quick phone call later . He looked over the shiny stranded bike and promptly added a couple of zeros to his fee . After a heated debate in Turkish , Ali came back fuming .
“ He thinks we ' re three helpless chickens and he ' s a big rooster ,” Ali explained . “ Well , I ' m not interested in being screwed !”
Balikesir was only 40 kilometres or so away , so we offered to tow the DRZ there instead and Ali sent the tow truck on its way . Having spent the entire day jump-starting Aidan ’ s bike from mine , the battery was drained , and we had to start both bikes off the DRZ . The tow rope in place , our sorry convoy slowly made its way west towards the setting sun .
Outside a service station and retail park , my bike stalled . The battery was still dead , and the bike was too heavy for me to push-start alone . When the guys noticed my absence , they struggled to turn around whilst still towing . We started my bike off the DRZ , but I had only gone a few metres down the road when it stalled again . It was dark and getting late and this was becoming difficult . Suddenly the 40 kilometres to town seemed endless and there was nothing for it but to find camp for the night .
As we were standing about ,
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