My Motorcycle Diaries: Part 3

There is no worse feeling than pure excitement, as I explained in part 1

and part 2

of our moto trip from Buenos Aires to Cordoba, to then feeling the extreme. Suffering. Sure I wasn’t locked up in some maniac’s dungeon but i’m going to put it out there that riding on the back of a moto has got to be up there in awful experiences.

The wind blowing in my face that used to feel relaxing now felt like it was trying to push me off the bike for a fast death. My playlist of music that used to feel invigorating now felt irritating, especially as the headphones now caused physical pain as it was plastered into my ear from my helmet’s tight fit. Not only was my back aching but it was dark and the once interesting scenery became nothing but a straight highway marked with dotted white lines.

My Motorcycle Diaries: Part 3

The only moments I looked forward to were our hourly stops at gas stations for either more gas or to ask for more directions.

My Motorcycle Diaries: Part 3

I was quietly hoping that we would get lost so that we could ask for directions more often; that means more rest.

Normally I might complain a little but where would I go? We would either make it to Cordoba and have a pleasant party filled weekend or we would spend the weekend on a motorcycle to who knows where.

It was many hours into our trip and even closer to Cordoba that the gas station we stopped at actually happened to have a motel next door.

http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/g9ErI4PV75s&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0I wanted to call it a day. It was obvious. It made sense. We were both exhausted. Even Alex was driving 50+ mph on crap roads with only one hand. Of course what seemed like the right thing to do meant that we would not make it to Cordoba as planned.

We discussed it some more but we had both already been through enough that day that there is no way we could not finish the trip that day.

I was miserable.

My Motorcycle Diaries: Part 3

We rode on. We could see the signs to Cordoba and it was only a matter of time before we would arrive. It was on the outskirts of Cordoba that Alex asked me to pull out the address for the hostel we were going to stay at.

My Motorcycle Diaries: Part 3

I stared at him blankly. He stared back.

“I thought you printed out the address”

“No, that was your job”

At 2am we were entering an unfamiliar city trying to navigate the roads inside the city with no objective. Our plan was to hopefully find the city center where a hotel must be.

We nearly drove into the highway barriers trying to choose which exit to take. It was all guesses. We chose left and no less than 5 minutes later we found ourselves on the outskirts of the city driving along an unpaved road with very few lights, unfinished houses built up scrap materials, and multiple dogs barking.

We kept riding.

That’s when we heard a pop as the motorcycle’s spun out of control swerving left, then right, and so on for a good 20 feet until we came to a grinding stop with the two of us gently falling off the bike, unhurt.

“Jeez, what the hell”

We picked up the bike and I shone my cell phone light on the motorcycle where we saw the busted chain. On cue, we removed our helmets, pushed the moto to the side of the thin rode, and got to work.

Alex instructed me to hold the bike steady as he would try and reattach the chain to the moto. We took o We began to argue as I was not holding it properly and he was having trouble getting the chain reattached. This went on with some back and forth bickering until a yellow car appeared driving down the road.

When it was almost half a basketball court away it stopped and a man appeared in the darkness…

Note: This will be continued in part 4, the final part of the story.

Jason Bartoli
Jason Bartoli

"Jason is the best person you'll ever meet here. He's just a ray of sunshine. An adventurer, businessman, and has a 4.9 Uber rating. Lovely person inside and out. I say, go message him" - My Mom

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