Getting the motorcycle legally onto the road was an entirely different matter! To get a bloody license plate for the thing was a nightmare, and I eventually had to go through “different channels” to get the f**king piece of metal! My first run was a 100 K trip to the king town Yendi. With the area in a state of emergency, and a month long curfew lifted just weeks before, the trip was not without dangers. On my arrival in Yendi, the first thing that happened was me being pulled over at the first roadblock and getting a very loaded AK 47 pointed at my head. When I took my helmet off there was no problem, I was white, and the soldiers told me that it was normal procedure. Cruising on a dark red gravel road in the blistering sun is something that gets under you skin! You are all alone, and the next car will probably not get to you before 2-24 hours have pasted. And you do not really give it the throttle, because a brake down here is not good news. The local bush mechanics can fix a flat tire and clean you carburettor, but you do not want a cylinder cracking or oil leaks etc in the bush. When you arrive it is a sort of victory, and washing the day’s dust of your body is like being re-born. If you have not tried it, you will not understand…
