Taxi, Please!

Our first bit of entertainment came just short of Katima Mulilo when James and Jared skipped a roadblock and left Fish stranded with two traffic cops on the side of the road. The situation was neutralised with James’s magical gift of conversation diversion. It went something like this: Policeman “I will fine you for not stopping at this roadblock”, James: “Lovely roads these, how far to Zambia? Would you like to win our scooter? Any fuel up ahead? You guys look super smart in uniform!”… and we were off on our way.

After clearing Katima it was a short dash to the border post where the realization was dawning that we would make Livingstone tonight! Excitement grew even more when we bumped into the Epic Winning team just before the Zambian gates were about to close for the night. Their promise of beer and a braai put us quickly back on the bikes riding due east. With the sun setting, we only had 200km to Livingstone…

Then the wheels came off (quite literally in one instance). Molly decided enough was enough, and coughed and spluttered to a grinding halt. A bent engine valve meant she wasn’t going anywhere soon! Now being in this situation a few days earlier we knew the task at hand. Flag down a truck and get to Livingstone anyway possible! Our saving grace was not an 18 wheeler this time, but a standard Zambian taxi!

After price negotiations we convinced the bemused driver to load the 110kg scooter on his back seat and get Molly to Livingstone. However there were conditions: the driver needed to drive 50km in the complete opposite direction to re-fuel and ask his “boss” permission to take us to Livingstone. No problem! So Jared hopped in the taxi (with no phone) while Fish and James stayed roadside with the other scooters. What transpired was something unbelievably funny (but not at the time).

Jared found himself sitting in a 2x2m living-room while our driver woke up his mother (“boss”) to ask permission to drive us to Livingstone. After pleeing our case and receiving an ear-full, she agreed under the conditions that his brother join us (and that we use his car). So we unloaded the taxi, put Molly in the new taxi, re-fuelled (from an oil drum) and hit the road at 200 dB with the original taxi driver spooning Molly in the back seat. The whole expedition took 4hrs, to which James and Fish had started a roadside fire and were making contingency plans resulting from my certain abduction and death in a beknown Zambian village. Nevertheless, with ringing ears we made it back to the scooter crime scene and quickly threw Fish in the taxi to ride up ahead (we later learnt that Fish was a reborn Christian again after his taxi ride).

The task was simple, James and Jared would ride the two scooters, and there would still be time for a nightcap. 130 km to Livingstone…

The pot-holed stricken road was starting to take its toll on the remaining scooters. Both Roxy and Frances had lost their spotlights, and the road began to deteriorate. Jared hit a crater which bent and cracked the rear rim and once again left us stranded on the road side. Time: 01:00 am, 90 km to Livingstone…Another road side inferno was lit up and camp erected. We would wait out the night and figure out our next move at sunrise.

At dawn we heard the screaming Pistons of Fury bellowing down the highway to our rescue. Still cramping from sleeping on our haunches around our fire (which had died a long time earlier) we rose with excitement and loaded Roxy into the van (Fish’s attempt at taking off Molly’s rear tyre in Livingstone to bring to us had failed dismally). But it didn’t matter! Finally, after 5 days of solid riding, 2 Fish falls, and with 1 scooter, we rolled into Livingstone!

What lay ahead was a race against time to get all three scooters back on the road, and of course to party like rock stars at the Livingstone Checkpoint party! 

Keeping it Silly