I was introduced to my scooter today....I've never ridden one before, but after afew halting manouevres, I take to it like a duck to water. Helmetless, and with little thought for the finer points of the highway code, I join the busy, meandering by-ways that, mostly, lead to the beach.
The other road users appear to have even less road sense than I do, but somehow it all flows along. The roundabouts in Mapusa are the scariest.....it's literally every man for himself. If you are too polite with the opposition you risk coming a cropper.
The road infrastructure is pretty poor, and the lanes that lead to the beaches are largely narrow and pot-holed. It's OK as long as it's other bikes that are heading in the opposite direction, but every now and then you have to make way for a very wide and speeding bus, or worse still, a lorry with tyres as tall as yourself!
My scooter soon develops starting problems. The electric starter motor has become very temperamental, and I am instructed in the art of kick starting it. As the week progresses however, even that becomes hit and miss.....the starting mechanism seems to behave differently every day. On one occassion I arrived back at the apartment at midnight and turned the ignition off, but the engine kept running. It woke the neighbours up, who ventured out to assist, but to no avail. Eventually we had to syphon off the petrol!
I took it back the next day, but of course, it behaved perfectly in the presence of the hire staff, so I reluctantly agreed to persevere for a couple more days until Ricky was due to leave for Blighty, and I could take his keys. The evening I'd planned to take my bike back, it wouldn't start at all......I got a lift to the hire place and handed them the key, drawing them a map of how to get to our place.
The following day I take Ricky's bike over, and it starts first time.....I head out east into the hinterland; within half-an-hour my horn has stopped working! I don't think I was born to be a Mod!!
The other road users appear to have even less road sense than I do, but somehow it all flows along. The roundabouts in Mapusa are the scariest.....it's literally every man for himself. If you are too polite with the opposition you risk coming a cropper.
The road infrastructure is pretty poor, and the lanes that lead to the beaches are largely narrow and pot-holed. It's OK as long as it's other bikes that are heading in the opposite direction, but every now and then you have to make way for a very wide and speeding bus, or worse still, a lorry with tyres as tall as yourself!
My scooter soon develops starting problems. The electric starter motor has become very temperamental, and I am instructed in the art of kick starting it. As the week progresses however, even that becomes hit and miss.....the starting mechanism seems to behave differently every day. On one occassion I arrived back at the apartment at midnight and turned the ignition off, but the engine kept running. It woke the neighbours up, who ventured out to assist, but to no avail. Eventually we had to syphon off the petrol!
I took it back the next day, but of course, it behaved perfectly in the presence of the hire staff, so I reluctantly agreed to persevere for a couple more days until Ricky was due to leave for Blighty, and I could take his keys. The evening I'd planned to take my bike back, it wouldn't start at all......I got a lift to the hire place and handed them the key, drawing them a map of how to get to our place.
The following day I take Ricky's bike over, and it starts first time.....I head out east into the hinterland; within half-an-hour my horn has stopped working! I don't think I was born to be a Mod!!
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