Mountain Driving in Spain

Lovely but Dangerous

The Montgo Mountain divides Denia from Javea along the coast of Spain, and adds to the beautiful scenery of the area. Recently, my wife and I drove across the mountain in both directions. First she drove, and I enjoyed the scenery, and then I drove on the return trip so that she could also take in the wonderful views. This is a perfect microcosm of mountain driving as it has all the thrill, terror and exciting vistas that you could get from a long drive. But the Montgo is only 7 kilometres, and it has a flat ridge that allows some living space and a wonderful lookout at Cap San Antonio.

Personally, I detest driving in the mountains as the driver has to be so completely focused on the roadway as to make the trip a complete waste of time from his point of view. Your passengers have to describe what they experienced when you arrive at the bar at the bottom. Add to that the fact that I do not really like heights and it becomes clearer of what my problem is.

My friends, who have hiked other mountains show me their pictures of cars that went over the edge and ended up way down below. It would not take much for that to happen, especially as so many idiots seem to think that the very winding, narrow roads are some form of racetrack. If you are the careful driver you can expect to be overtaken on blind bends. What is going through these people’s minds? My description for them is : people with excrement for brains.

I had turned off the main road on the Montgo to drive out to the lighthouse on the point. Evidently I was not driving recklessly enough for the mother with her children in the car behind me as she overtook me on a bend in the road and she could not see whether anything was coming towards her. As I arrived at the parking area she was opening her doors and her children were piling out of the car. Why was she in such a hurry? Nothing much changed in the views even while we were there.

As beautiful as these passages are, I would rather walk them than drive them. I must state that the first time that we drove the Montgo was in the year 2000. We didn’t know what to expect, and it came as a really big surprise that the roadside was on fire. That was apparently caused by someone throwing a cigarette butt into the bush. We had no warning, and we could not turn around and go back.

I never forgot it!

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

A Girl and a Motorcycle

Sexy!

For many men, and I’m tempted to say probably the vast majority of men, the two images that strike a chord with us are a beautiful woman, and a beautiful motorcycle. Men are made to respond to the visual, and sometimes we get confused as to which is supposed to do more for us, motorcycles or women when they are put together.

I have been on great motorcycle rides on a Honda Goldwing, and even on much lesser bikes, and the competition between women and bikes must surely be a subject of intense interest to anthropologists. I have rallied with small bikes of 125 cc or even less, and the competitive spirit is in evidence. Mainly we have the men riding and their women holding on tight, perhaps tighter than necessary for safety reasons. When the size of the bikes move up to the 500 cc range the effort on the part of the women also steps up to win the attention of their guys.

Although I ride with clubs on 1500 cc Goldwings, the mindset is a little different because these clubs are gentlemen’s clubs. What the women have to do in order to stay on the radar of their men is to pay a lot of attention to the bike. It becomes a shared passion. To avoid being left at home a Goldwinger’s wife simply has to learn everything she can about the bike, and to take an interest in its upkeep and maintenance.

Such owners are almost religious in the worship they pay to their bikes. The bike must not be taken out on a rainy day, nor on a day that is overcast. During the cold and rainy Winter months the bike is kept indoors, preferably in the living room. The paint job is usually immaculate and shiny, and I suspect a lot of the bikes are also kept covered.

If you really want to see one of these men in uncontrollable tears, damage his bike.

Meanwhile, over in the Harley Davidson camp, things are a little different. Harley riders are a more-hardy breed. The extreme clubs like Hell’s Angels ride Harleys. You cannot be an Angel on a Goldwing. The clubs that cause all the bad press are all likely to be riding Harleys. This all has nothing to do with the Harley manufacturers, but the hard asses tend to drift toward this brand.

To simply watch a Harley rally is something else. One of the images that are stuck in my mind is that of a group of bikers that showed up at a rally with their chicks on the back. The girls were wearing, if you can call it that, a couple of handkerchief-style pieces of material that left nothing at all to the imagination. These girls were serious about getting the attention of their men, and everybody’s else’s, and keeping it. What a sight that was to behold.

Trust me to think about something like this: I thought that was all very well, but I hoped that they didn’t fall off because there would be an awful lot of skin to get scruffed up.

As the weather begins to mellow the time has come for rallies all throughout Europe. These can be quite impressive and a lot of good clean fun for the various clubs, but until you have been a participant in one of the big rallies in the United States where the number of bikes in attendance will be 30,000 or more, you, or I haven’t lived yet.

Just have a very good scientific way to find your bike when you want it.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

Formula One Practise

Formula One Practise week in Cheste

I made good on my promise that since Formula One were practising in the racing circuit next door to my town, I would go along and catch some of the action. In spite of the time of year the weather could not have been more accommodating over the three days from February 1st to the 3rd. It was as though someone had taken the sun and given it a good polishing so that it really did shine brightly. It became so hot that we all had to shed our heavy coats and sweaters, and more than one person came away with sunburn.

I was quite amazed by the numbers that came to see these guys practise. They were not racing, it was just going around the track, the wrong way for them, to kick-start their skills after the break. The stands were packed and everybody and his brother brought a camera, but the problem was, there was absolutely nothing to take a picture of, unless you had some kind of pass that allowed you up close to the cars.

On the day I attended, the most exciting thing that happened was that one of the drivers did not give sufficient respect to one of the corners and he spun out. The gasp from the crowd was wonderful. Otherwise, the degree of excitement that registered on everyone’s face was about what you get when watching everyday traffic.

Still, all the big names were present going through their paces and it was good to be back in the season. On a sad note, we could not have had any idea that we were seeing Mr. Kubica’s last Formula One performance for some time. We wish him a full and speedy recovery.

With an uneventful experience from the track I feel I must complain about something. Having arrived fairly early and parked where directed, as usual I walked away from my car without taking any notice of where I had parked it. At that time there were very few cars there. However, everybody and his brother came later and totally overwhelmed the car park, so finding my car took the better part of about 25 minutes of walking up and down and around and around looking for a black car in a sea of black cars. Had my car been stolen I would not have known it until very late in the day.

Even if I had wanted to be more careful there were no section notices. However, security takes the prize for just plain stupidity. It seems that they had some kind of criteria about what could not be taken into the stands, but they set-up their checkpoint after the tickets sales, and about as far away from where you left your car, to stop you and to tell you that you could throw your stuff into their massive container. Bloody fools! A really great way to spoil one’s day out.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael

In Court in a Foreign Language

In Court in a Foreign Language-Fascinating

I recently appeared in Court in Spain because on the 14th October, 2009 I was travelling on my motorcycle into my local town. I was entering into a one-way street going into the town, when much to my surprise I encountered a car coming out, travelling the wrong way on this street.

I braked very hard to avoid a crash, but the rear wheel slid on some sand and the bike fell over to the left trapping my leg under it. As the full weight of the bike and myself came down the leg broke. It had been one year and a little more than 3 months since that incident, and the time had come to conclude the matter.

My case took forty-five minutes of Court time. There was the lady judge and her stenographer and a court usher. There was my lawyer, who speaks very little English. The lawyer for the other side was present, and I had a translator by my side.

I was asked to describe the events on the day, which I did in English, and that was translated for me. After I gave my Deposition my lawyer asked me several questions. I did not have a witness so it came down to my word against the driver of the car. I was asked how I could be so certain that the number of the car was so as I said it was, and I explained that the driver of the car was asked to move his car to one side, and at that moment I had the presence of mind to write down the car’s number while the car was before me. I produced the notepad on which I did that, and it was examined at length.

The other lawyer asked me only three questions, to the relief and delight of my lawyer who later said that was because the other lawyer was afraid of what I might say. The car owner was then asked whether he agreed with anything that I had said, or that he confirmed that he was the person in his car who had caused the accident. He said that he was not the one, and that he had never seen me before.

He did help me by admitting that he had visited my village, but not on the day in question, and we both agreed that the colour of his car was brown, although I said it was light brown and he said it was dark brown. Unfortunately I didn’t take a picture of the car and driver at the time, but I had a broken leg. I have no problem with my description of the car, and when he drove away the car went in the direction of his town. But, I think they were trying to confuse me because the man who appeared in Court was not the person who drove the car on the day.

I remember that person as fitting another description, but the man in Court owned the car. That could have been something like if my son borrowed my car and had a problem for which I later appeared in court.

In any event we fully expected a denial from him because he committed two offences on that day. Firstly he was driving the wrong way along a one-way street. Given the appalling street signage in the town that would be very likely unless you really knew the place. Secondly, he left the scene of the incident without sharing information with me, or without even speaking to me to see if I was injured. You would be a very extraordinary person to admit to such offences.

The point of all this is to say that a lot of things are said that are completely not understood by the foreigner, things that are being said about you that affect your possible character. I was told afterwards that the other lawyer was saying that I was lying and that I only wanted to get some money because I was an immigrant. After he had spoken the judge asked me what was my profession and I told her that I am a retired accountant and that changed the colour of the other lawyer’s face.

I was on the correct side of the court in this case. The judge has to decide whether she wants to award compensation to me as prescribed by law, against the owner of the accused car. It’s not possible to tell what the lady was thinking when we left the court, and we shall have to wait and see. I would not want to ever have to go to court for something that I had done in this country, or even in my own country.

I think I have a little sense of the discomfort that people must feel when answering charges in a foreign court far from home. This begs the question: why do people walk into a foreign country carrying drugs? As the saying goes, “when you’re busted over there, you’re in for the hassle of your life.

Copyright © 2011 Eugene Carmichael