13/9 Friday the 13th …

… it didn’t turn into a black Friday. It also wasn’t especially great, especially in the second half of the day.

First of all there’s a cozy breakfast in this beautiful country house. Before I mount up, I chat a bit with the landlady and then set off in good spirits. The landscape is criss‑crossed with more or less large hills, so I meander without haste through the area. I think I belong to the species of meanderers. The sun is almost constantly beaming into my face today, but the cold wind pulls and gnaws at the nerves. So time for a coffee and a slice of cake. Yes, two, you’re right. As beautiful as the scenery has been so far, there were no surprises to discover by the roadside, no castle, no fortress, just an occasional manor house. No, that’s not entirely true, I did see a fortress, more through the bushes. But it seemed to be hibernating and I couldn’t get close. According to the map there should be a second castle on the route, but it stayed hidden from me. After my coffee break the landscape became increasingly monotonous, and an old annoyance resurfaced when the evening rush hour began. Besides Germany, Italy and France especially have the problem. Or, put another way, I have the problem with pushers. On the island the people also move very quickly, but they didn’t hang over my neck constantly. When you make room to overtake, on the island you’re almost always thanked. In France, complete no‑show. In general, people in Britain greeted much more, even pedestrians greeted passing motorcyclists. At first that was unfamiliar to me and I thought they must have mistaken me for someone else. Then I got used to it and now I think it’s really good, because it also creates trust and makes you more considerate. My opinion.

I chose another wild‑camping spot, although it’s not that wild. A bivouac spot on a cycle‑tour path. Unfortunately I also had technical problems in the last kilometres. The rear brake kept disengaging more and more after braking, and the clutch also stopped separating so much. Nevertheless I dragged myself to the chosen night camp and started the maintenance work before even setting up the tent. Release the rear wheel and shift it aside to get some oil on the camshaft. Lacking a grease press I also unscrewed the grease nipple and dripped a few drops of oil in. Put everything back together and tended to the clutch. And here a breakdown could now be looming, because with the usual readjustment of the stop screw the problem barely improved. I will check tomorrow after the start how the thing feels and whether everything perhaps just got a little hot. If the clutch disc is worn down, I have a real problem. And the people who came by and saw me with work gloves and tools? They just clucked, no greeting, no question whether I needed help, none of that. Great nation, I’ll smoke you in a pipe. In Britain I only had to make a sad face, and they immediately asked whether everything was alright. So, yes, Friday the 13th.