Mid-Life Rider

rambling through mid-life on motorcycles

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Tales from Chile (not mine)

June 19th, 2008 · No Comments

Here’s the lead on a great read in the Manchester Guardian . . .

Mike Carter on his motorbike trip across South America

Long way down … Mike Carter takes in the spectacular views of the Valley of the Moon in Chile from a precarious vantage point. Photograph: Julia Sanders

I watched them ride along the corniche, headlights blazing through the swirling dust and the fading light. I started counting. I’d been alone in Arica, an out-of-season beach town on the Chile/Peru border, for over two days. Counting motorcycles felt like great excitement, all things considered.

There should have been 10. There were just eight. By the time I’d left the beach and walked back into the hotel lobby, the riders, caked in grime and sweat, were presenting their passports to reception in the careworn manner befitting those who’d been on the road three weeks.

“Where are the other two?” I asked a man.

He looked tired. “Crashed,” replied Brian, for that was his name. “In Bolivia. One hit a police barrier. Almost decapitated. Ducked just in time, but smashed his sternum and two vertebrae. The other one hit a vicuña. Broke his shoulder and his arm. Both repatriated.”

Decapitated. Repatriated. Now there’s a couple of words.

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