6 hours, 30 minutes, 550 kilometers (342 miles)
Oh what a night.
After being selected as the designated driver for the night, it took a lot to maintain some sense of control. Not just with the drinking, but driving in the pitch black on the wrong (left) side of the road with a car full of comedians. My pleasure.
Let’s just say I was running on empty…
Ok, so the original plan was to drive from Durban to East London, and then to Gqberha (PE), but with the battery trouble, I found myself in search of a battery shop, or one of the club’s friends who could help out. Sha-sha knew of someone in PE who could help, but given the fact that it was a Sunday and there was no confirmation of a battery match, I had trouble with reconciling the “E”. Luckily, Sha-sha did not.
Battery Hunting
As soon as Sha-sha arrived at my hotel , we headed over to AutoZone – yes, the same name as US and A – where they promptly responded that they didn’t have motorcycle batteries. Not too surprising. I only saw two – yes dos/duo/zwei – motorcycles on my first 5-hour leg. Options were beginning to fade quickly and I could see the hope fading in Sha-sha’s eyes quickly. There’s a sort-of helplessness that overcomes you when you’re someone like him – able to handle every situation, exception this one… well, maybe not.
So, on to the next place, his friend “and nearly Eskimo brother”, Lee. This guy was absolutely a collector….
His place was quite beautiful for a junk yard. I could have spent days there combing through all his stuff and building robots or some shit.
This Fucking Guy
As a matter of last resort, Sha-sha made the decision. The “E” was going to be him giving me his battery from his motorcycle. Yes, in a place where batteries are like gold, this guy, this fucking guy, makes the ultimate sacrifice to get me back on the road. This will never be forgotten.
So, we headed to his place to get the battery from his bike. His daughter was playing the yard where some workers were busy doing some car washing on a birth Sunday day.
And oh yeah, he’s go “projects” too.
And, he’s also got a sticker!
We headed back to the hotel, but not before a stop off to the Mandela museum. This was his hometown after all. Yes, what a story.
To describe the moment is impossible. I never accept anything from anyone. To be humbled in his hometown by such amazing people was actually difficult to swallow for me. I don’t typically allow people to do things like this for me. I don’t know what happened – must be something about this place. Must be something about these people.
I packed up in about 5 minutes, we changed out the battery, and I was on the road.