When we got to Malaga, after a quick stop for lunch at the train station and knocking out some laundry at a local laundromat, we grabbed a taxi to IMT Bike. Over the previous few months, I’d been emailing them with all kinds of questions and thoughts, and they’d been great about helping plan our trip. Not great about helping to plan our route, since that would compete with their guided tours, but everything else about their service was fantastic. Yeah, I’m plugging their business, but I think they did a great job, so if you want to rent motorcycles in Spain, talk to them. Tell Elisa I sent you. I don’t get any credit for it, but I just like it when people drop my name for no good reason.
The taxi pulled up to IMT, just one of a dozen shops in the warehouse district near the Malaga airport. The rain had slowed by now, but it was still coming down, and the roads were still wet. Not my favorite riding weather even at home, and I wasn’t too excited about the prospect of riding on unfamiliar streets in an unfamiliar country in the rain. But I kept my mouth shut and went inside. We met up with the manager who greeted us warmly in English. He showed us to our bikes. Glenn and I each rented a BMW F700GS, and John went with the BMW R1200GS. He gave us a tour of the bikes, what switches did what, etc, and we did walkaround inspections on each. Satisfied that everything appeared to be what we expected, we started loading our gear into the saddlebags. Unfortunately, my backpack didn’t fit into any of the hard-shelled cases, so I emptied out the contents into the saddlebags and strapped the backpack to the back of my seat. I figured that, if it flew off, at least I wouldn’t lose my stuff as well. After getting suited up, with jackets, helmets, and gloves, we set out. The rain had slowed to a minor drizzle, but the roads were still wet. I was nervous.
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That’s either Glenn’s bike or mine. John’s in the background doing a walkaround on his bike. |
Glenn pulled out first, then John. As I got to the entrance of the garage, I stopped to ask the manager a quick question. When I finally pulled out, I turned right as Glenn and John had. I pulled up to the first intersection, looked down the right street and didn’t see anyone. There was no street to the left, so I went straight. For about 25 yards, then I realized it was a dead end. I’d been on the bike for less than a minute, and I’d already lost my group. This was not a good omen.
I put the bike in neutral, planted my feet on the ground, and started walking the bike back. I got to the intersection and looked down the street to the right, and there was John, on his bike, looking back at me, wondering why I was going the wrong way. I waved, shifted into first, and followed him down the street. We were off.
To be continued….
