day 15, saturday 14^th august 99

I wake after an uncomfortable night's sleep to clear skies and sun. The café owner comes out of the back door of her little building (a converted tram), not knowing we're there and exclaims "Oh my God!" She wants us to get packed and put the tables back as soon as is possible, so people can use the seating area again.

We're all up and packed by 8:30. Jeff orders a toasted cheese sandwich and we like the look of it so much we order 6 more. The woman behind the counter nearly has a fit and refuses to do any more after ours are done. We drink loads of tea and coffee and finally leave at around 10:30. Budapest is supposed to be beautiful. I wouldn't know. It was dark when I got there and I was far too disinterested to look as we left. We get mildly lost in the infernal one way system again before heading out along the valley of the Danube. The traffic is heavy and there are lots of towns along the route, as might be expected.

After about 100 miles, we stop and agree that its time to lunch. Less than a mile later, we see a sign for the 'Elvis Parc' which is vaguely amusing. Round the corner we see a low, café-type building with 'Elvis Parc' on the side. It also has a 4-prop airliner built into the side of it! We stop immediately and head in for lunch. The food is OK, the waiter terse and there is absolutely nothing whatsoever to suggest why the place seeks to be connected with Elvis.

We set off again and make good time to the Hungary/Austria border. There's a confusing sign that seems to say that the left hand turning goes to the border by motorway and that straight on is for non-motorway traffic. As we don't want to encounter any more toll booths, we go on the non-motorway road.

A polite and very pretty border guard lassie turns us back and sends us onto the motorway. The actual border turns out to be only about a mile and even the Hungarians dare not charge for that. There is, of course, a large queue. Fortunately, it's moving fairly quickly. We get to the border post and in quick succession two blokes look at our passports. We head across no-man's land for the last time, Jeremy and marvin not bothering to put their helmets back on and me riding with my chin-guard up. About ½ mile later it dawns on us that there is no no-man's land and we're riding on an Austrian motorway!

We correct this minor cock-up and leave the motorway. We're back in the EU. It feels curiously sanitised and safe. The air of adventure around our journey is slowly being stripped away. Strangely, I don't really want to leave the Eastern European countries with their rawer edges.

The first Austrian town we come into is incredibly neat and regulated. I have an old envelope in my pocket and the urge to lob it down the main street is almost irresistible. Jeremy persuades me not to, on the grounds that the Austrians probably turn the Army out to deal with litter-bugs.

We bang on towards Vienna. Just outside the city, we stop for fuel and to allow Jim to phone his friend Marcel to let him know we're here. He also telephones his German contact, to find out that the German Triumph dealer refuses to believe that the radiator could be at fault and won't order one until they see it. Jim tells his contact the situation again and says that he insists they order a radiator right away. Of course, being Gentleman Jim, he says all this in his usual polite way, but you get the drift.

After fuelling, marvin's FJ absolutely refuses to go. A complete electrical failure. He whips the tank and seat off, assuming its a short-circuit caused by the power socket he recently fitted. On top of the cylinder head he finds a dried and decapitated dead bird! It's been sucked into one of the large air scoops that cool the FJ's engine and been thoroughly cooked on the cylinder head. Poor blighter!

He removes the air scoop and disposes of the corpse. The fault is traced to a battery terminal (actually, Andy had been saying this since before marvin took the tank off, but…) and we're soon on our way to a campsite on the other side of the river.

Just as we set the tents up, marvin's mobile goes off. It's a mate ringing to see whether or not he fancies a few beers in Bradford. In the coolest way possible, marvin says "I would, mate, but I'm in Vienna."

After an exceedingly cold shower and some beer, we attempt to do some laundry-drying. We completely fail to understand the tumble-dryer instructions and end up taking about 45 mins to dry something that should take 10. Still, during this period, marvin's FJ serves well as a taxi taking us back and forward between the tents and the toilet block (all of 100 yards, max) with various pissed up idiots on the back.

By now rather pissed, marvin attempts to give tumble dryer instructions to a pair of amazed Italians who obviously don't speak a word of English: "when your shit it washed, take our shit out of the dryer and put your shit in. When your shit's finished, put our shit back in, OK?" We collapse in hysterics but the Italians just look stunned.

We get taxis into town and meet up with Jim's contact Marcel & go off to an Austrian restaurant. The beer's good and the food is pretty damn good too. An English nutter approaches marvin (how do they know?!) and they chat for a short while. The nutter claims to be a football coach and marvin cries "cool, what coach do you drive?" Amidst laughter, the bloke wobbles off.

After the meal we walk through the Imperial Palace to the Austrian Parliament buildings. Very impressive buildings in a rather grandiose way. I am now desperate for a piss and, not wanting to cause a diplomatic incident by piddling on their Parliament, I nip into a bit of a park that's just nearby. I see a path into the bushes and exclaiming "oh, yes indeedy!" I nip into the bush to do my think. There are three blokes lurking in there. Saying "good grief" I back out and leave them to it. I pee on the side of the path. As I exit, Marcel tells me that this park is a well known cruising area. Ooops!

Earlier, marvin disappeared, wanting to go find a club to ogle totty. We go back without him, faintly worried, and find him already there. The club was expensive and had no totty, so he came back.

Off to bed, feeling rather drunk...

Mileage: err, dunno