Spain

(Sorry about the lack of photos but the weather was just too miserable to take a chance on getting the cameras wet).

Maybe we are getting a little smarter. We stopped about 25 km from Barcelona and found a great little hotel in Granollers. The people just couldn’t do enough for us during the two days we were there. I needed to find a BMW shop and mentioned this to Alicia (a Spaniard from the Canary Islands) and she immediately set to work to find what she thought was the best choice in terms of ease to get there and to be sure that they worked on bikes as well as cars. She even called them the night before to let them know that I was a round the world traveler and could they please service the bike early so we could leave the same day. "Sure," was the answer. "Just make sure the bike is here early."

The dealership, Muntana, S.A., is located at Numancia 22 in central Barcelona and with Alicia’s directions I was able to find it without getting lost. In fact this BMW dealership is quite large consisting of a dealership for cars, a few doors down is the service area including a large and separate Motorrad area. Around the corner is the motorcycle sales area with a parts department and a Mini dealership. Quite a complex.

I arrived at 9:00 am and told the technician that I wanted my oil changed, check the plugs and valves but don’t change the filters and just give the bike a general check to make sure everything is OK. Before I picked up the bike in Germany, Heiner had given it a complete service and then when I was in Greece I had the filters changed and a thorough going over so this service should be straight forward.

"When will the bike be ready?" "About 6:00" came the answer. "I thought you said you could get me out early?" "There is other ahead of you that we must finish." Could you make it sooner?" "Yes, it will be ready at 4:00." I checked in at 3:20 just in case they had it ready and was told it would be at 4:00 pm as promised.

I had been looking for an accessory that would allow me to remove the flip-front of my helmet and let me ride with an open face helmet when we got to warmer weather so I visited the young lady in the parts department of the Motorrad store. She grimaced; she shook her head and told me that she could have the part in two days. I explained that we were leaving after the bike was ready. "I will try but don’t hope too much." I’m sorry I didn’t get her name because this young woman epitomizes what customer service should be. All business when she has to be but able to take a moment when necessary to joke with a customer and make him feel important. Bottom line, when I returned at 4:00 pm as instructed she had the part.

Then I went to check on the bike. "It will be ready at 5:00 pm

The bill was 429.22 Euros (about $560.00). I hit the roof. Finally I talked with the technician and the service manager and explained that there was work done that was not ordered. "But the BMW manual says at 40,000 km we need to do the work that was done." "But I specifically said do not change the oil and gas filters, just oil and check the plugs." It was like I was talking to a third world vendor that was set to scalp the foreigner. Finally the manager simply said, "The bill is the bill and it stands."

"OK, give me my keys and helmet and I’ll leave." Then he couldn’t find my helmet. Finally I found my helmet and headed off to the bike. While it is heavy, it rolls pretty easily but I was surprised that no one stepped forward to help me position the bike so I could ride out of the garage. All together, not a good service experience. I only wish I lived in Barcelona so I could go to another dealership for work on my bike. They could learn from BMW in Kiev.

While the delay was longer than expected it did give me a chance to catch up on some important e-mails, not the least of which was making plans to get the bike from the UK to Canada. My original research told me that I would be able to find a freighter that would carry Janet and me plus the bike to Quebec. However, that is no longer an option. In fact all sources I checked indicated that ocean freight would take anything from six to eighteen weeks. That would seriously crimp our plans for the US and final leg of the Dragin Run.

Motorcycle Express, a supporter of Horizons Unlimited responded immediately to my request for information saying that they could get the bike on an airplane and had a contact with a travel agent that could get us on the same flight so we would arrive at the same time as the bike. More expensive than the freighter we had originally planned on but a workable solution nonetheless.

The winter storm that has nearly paralyzed the province of Valencia and the surrounding mountain territory plagued us as we tried to find the warm weather popularized in travel brochures and advertising. Nearly every town we stopped in was all but closed. Searching for a hotel/motel/warm bed was always a chore. One evening we opted for one of the hotels in the service area along side the Autovia. A bit more expensive but it did cut the time trying to find a hotel and then trying to find the highway again the next morning.

We had stopped for the night in Rincon de la Victoria, a small town just off the N-340 and about 15 km from Malaga. The winds were just too strong and the road just too winding for me to feel comfortable. Plus, the thought was always in my mind that maybe the sun would come out. But this was not to be. The following morning I asked Janet what she wanted to do and she said," Let’s go. I want to see Torremolinos." Good idea, this

is the town popularized by James Michener’s The Drifters and it was only 30 km away.

Then the rains hit. It was a steady downpour that limited my vision enough that within only a few km I decided to stop and find a place to hang out until the rains abated a bit. Driving through Malaga wasn’t difficult except we couldn’t find a restaurant or bar that was open. When we did find a place with a parking space near by we were told they didn’t open until 2:00 pm. Then Janet saw a bar and we headed there. The rain continued so we decided to head out and take the coast road to Torremolinos, we were still dry so nothing much to worry about except the route.

Our Garmin GPSmap76CS again proved its worth. I had downloaded the maps needed to find Torremolinos and even though I haven’t been able to get the route function to work, the map of Malaga did provide me with a workable solution to find the right streets and make the appropriate turns without getting lost.

I can still remember that day in 1972 when my Book-of-the-Month Club selections arrived. The book I had been anticipating was finally here. I tore open the box and there was The Drifters. Page one gripped me and I didn’t put it down until I finished early the following morning. The story is, of course, about a bunch of kids searching for answers and involves excursions into truth, drugs, sex, meaning and a host of other esoteric concepts that are so important to young people (and should be more meaningful to us older types). The story centers itself in Pamplona, Torremolinos and Marrakech.

When our boys were old enough I suggested that they read The Drifters. In fact, Jay, our oldest son wound up going to Spain and Morocco and was in Pamplona for the running of the bulls and then went on to Marrakech. But he never did get to Torremolinos. The city was important because that’s where all these kids connected up. It was a haven for people in northern Europe to escape the rigors of mid-winter and find white sand beaches, warm water, warmer sun and real excitement. Quite honestly I was looking forward to walking the beach and enjoying (Janet calls it ogling) young Scandinavian kids (OK, girls) cavorting in the surf.

JAMES MICHENER LIED! The tourist season doesn’t start until late March and more likely in April. There is a beach but no one goes there now (late January) because it’s just too damned cold. However, unlike most costal towns we have visited, Torremolinos was open for business. We managed to find a decent hotel at a reasonable price. Shops were open (we even found a bookstore that sold used novels in English), restaurants were open (Mulligan’s Irish pub was pouring Guinness!), I found a tobacco shop where I bought good pipe tobacco and Janet found a guy that she trusted to cut her hair. But the weather was still miserable.

We were only about 130 km from Algericas where we could catch the ferry to Tangiers so in spite of the forecasted rain we headed off. We were in luck; no rain and we arrived with only a two-hour wait for the ferry. Not a problem.

We were the first passenger vehicle there. Janet stretched out on the sidecar to catch a little rest and I read. 3:30 came and went—time to load but no movement. Then 4:00pm came and went. Finally the trucks started to roll on and finally the passenger vehicles were loaded but then there was another delay. Finally we pulled out of port and were on our way to Africa.

We had chosen a slower ferry so we could take a few pictures under the protection of the ferry but by the time we were underway, it was dark. To make matters worse, there was about a forty-five minute delay once we docked because of trouble with the ramp that carried the vehicles from the ferry to the dock. So by the time we arrived it was well into night. Then there was customs and immigration to contend with. But that is a longer story and belongs to the Morocco chapter. J