Panic Week / 'pænık wı:k / noun
1. The final 7 days before departure in which final preparations accelerate, intensifying stress levels to a state of near psychosis.
Oh yes, it has begun.
Mind you, it did already begin a week ago, when I deemed it time to replace the throttle cables.
The replacement wasn't that hard, but it was significantly more difficult to get the cables at the right tension. Only after a cruise control session down the highway, some more lubricant and taking the handlebar end apart again did the cables work as they should.
Having fixed that, it was time for the next curveball.
You see, ever since I didn't click my camera back into its mount properly and I saved it from imminent death I tend to be really thorough when it comes to pre-flight checks concerning the camera. It needs to be stuck on the helmet to such a degree that no pesky raindrops, thunderstorm of armageddonesque apocalypse can get it off until I arrive at my destination.
So imagine my surprise when last week, while I was on my way to work, the camera fell off the helmet and fell onto my right thigh. Going 60 mph in the outside lane of a rush hour highway I tried to catch it again, but failed... after which my loyal Drift Ghost bounced down the highway into oncoming traffic.
Puzzled at what could've caused this, I took a look at the mount upon arrival... and that's when the instigator revealed itself.
You see that black, gaping hole at the centre of the mount, reminiscent of the mouth of one of those Star Wars cave monsters? That's where a metal thread should've been. You know, that standard metal thread onto which you screw your camera and all that.
It had obviously snapped clean off, taking the entire camera with it. After work, I retraced my steps, and before long I found what remained of my once-unbeatable Drift Ghost.
I've immediately contacted Drift on the matter, but with 7 days to go, Drift has yet to respond. Luckily, left and right people have already offered to lend their cameras for the upcoming endeavour - something which leaves me quite speechless. Awesomesauce!
Ofcourse, the rest of the prep is still very much ongoing.
First there's the packing (whether that's just for pussies I'll leave up to you)...
...and then there's getting the Beast some new shoes, whilst also getting its valves adjusted. Soon enough, the ol' girl got a fresh bill of health; the mechanic was pleased to find out she's a regularly maintained machine. Doing this pre-flight checkup, it surely paid dividends.
The current look of the Beast seems to make the trip all tangible and in a way, it's quite intimidating. It reminds me of the trip's magnitude, and the challenges that it will hold.As we speak I'm looking into the route, and even though there's been quite a few people looking strangely at the duration of the trip ('two weeks on Iceland? Are you going to circle it twice?') I know that just this once, I want to take my time.
For now, I still need to get the Beast some fresh spark plugs, chain and sprockets, and then she's ready to rock.
T Minus 7 days.
