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What's it all about?

"Stuff and nonsense about riding a motorbike through the Americas Bueno Aires, to the tip of Argentina, then onwards and upwards to Miami

What's next

I´ve been down to Ushuiai and am now on my way north.

Kick back

New XT waiting to be crated and shipped

Due to the recently restrictions on hand baggage, we've been forced to freight our bikes by boat, from the Thames estuary docks in Essex across the Atlantic to Buenos Aires. Que the rain, as I crawl from one set of red lights to another, edging my way out of West London on my way to the warehouse.

It's rare to have a road in the UK open up in front of you, with no other traffic to be seen between you and the horizon, that is unless you're heading home in the wee small hours. I remember the change from Britain to the continent was slightly eerie as we headed out of Calais on to the empty French roads. You may well be unaware of it, but for years there has been a secret band of motorists traversing our roads in Beetles, Campers, Classic motorbike smiling and waving to one another, knowing that their World is very different to that of the others and bikers are very much a part of this this secret band. As I passed other bikers in France and throughout the rest of Europe they would acknowledge you by removing their foot facing you from the peg it would usually rest on, stretching out their leg towards the front wheel. On the road each day a procession of bikers, sometime solo and others in groups as large as a dozen would all pass by in the opposite direction, kicking out their legs in what was some kind of Mad Maxesque guard of honour, which simply made you feel glad to be a part of this elite renegade gang as you saluted back.

Eventually I made my way on to the M25, as the rain and grey skies squeezed the landscape and horizon flat, slogging my way slowly through a sea of reps, haulage trucks and whites van. The motorway began to split, I moved in to the centre lane to continue on towards Essex, when I noticed an old BMW Boxter with panniers coming up behind me on the inside lane, the bike slowed down slightly, the rider kicked out his leg as the surfaced rain continued to spray up and as I kicked out my leg in return, who cares about a little bit of rain when you're back on the road with a big trip ahead of you.

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