I’m up early and leave the giggle of girls in bed. Their beds that is not mine. My bed wasn’t made for giggling.
The sun is coming up and I’m riding alongside the Trans Siberian. There are two red locomotives running alongside me and singing on the tracks like sirens for me to follow them over the horizon. I can still hear them after they disappear into the trees.
The sky is busy getting its clouds in orders Mother Nature’s first chore of the day. There isn’t much traffic about yet and I have the road mostly to myself. Myself and a fuck off huge bird of prey that is. It’s stopped at the side of the road for a breakfast take-away but the take-away has other ideas and struggles free and falls to the ground as the bird takes flight.
Not things I usually see on my commute to work in Southampton. Although I do see the odd black clad vermin furtively fucking off down a footpath on an electric scooter with a bag of swag stolen from someone’s car.
A few hours in I stop for a piss. Again. I forgot to pack my old bloke piss blocker tablets. Now I need a slash every 10 minutes and my old man has retreated to such an extent it looks like a discarded fag end. Maybe I’ll go to a pharmacy tomorrow and whip it out to see what they suggest. Perhaps they have miracle grow for men out here. Only one way to find out.
Might as well have lunch too. It’s more of my favourite school dinners. The menu is .. for decoration only so I point to what I think is an omelette but appears to be pig road kill that was run over by a cheese lorry.
The sky has been full of big black boxing gloves full of rain all day. They’ve been punching the ground and it’s very wet but luckily they only got me with a few glancing blows
Today I’ve been thinking. When I hear people say they’re in two minds, why am i always in 12 minds? What exactly the fuck is working with me? I spend all my life listening to different opinions inside my own head. That’s what’s fucking me up at the moment. Whoever I’ve got in there at the moment are real worriers. And I think I’ve worked out what’s happening. I think that as I go, I pick up restless souls at the roadside. I’m just a traveling soulsman. They jump on board, get inside my head and start throwing their weight about. I think a few days ago I must have stopped by a mini bus load of abandoned worriers. But today at lunchtime I think I picked up a couple that have heard I WAS going to “almost madness”. And now they’re in my fucking ear too. Jesus I cannot win.
Get to Novosibirsk and it starts to rain. The traffic last time I was here was epic, and today in the rain it’s even worse. Get to the dealers with bubbling oil and water. “Oil please” “Da” “how much?” “12800 rubles”. WTF! 4 litres of Motul oil is £125!! Shit a fucking brick. Supply and demand. What can you do. I could put the cheap Russia equivalent in but The Bitch but she is my lifeline. I bend over, pull my hidden wad from my anal cavity and make sure to give him the ones from the outside. He can’t change it till tomorrow but he lets me change it in the puddles out the back.
Back into the traffic. This is the worse by far so far. Absolute gridlock and The Bitch hates it. I’m filtering and I come alongside a police car. I knock on the window, motion if it’s ok to filter and he says go ahead. Filtering shares the shit out of me out here. One wrong move and .. I don’t want to think about it.
The dealer suggested a hotel in town. I get there. Can’t find it so I park on the pavement to go look. A bloke and his mate come up to me. Shake my hand. His name is Nicoli and he is “gypsy”. I should have left right then and there.. I can’t park on the pavement. He goes to talk to a couple of blokes sitting behind me parked in a car. They have a bit of a shout and they move so I can park.
“Pop pop. Gunman” says the gypsy pointing at the car that’s moved. “Bad man. Gangster”. For some reason I think that’s fine and go to find the hotel before actually processing what he’s told me, thinking it’s probably not the best neighbourhood to stay in and riding away quickly like a girl.
Stop at the first hotel descent I can find. Today is a day my wallet obviously wants to stretch out its wings and let the money fly out. I walk in and I know I stink. I can smell my boots and they are a long way from my nose. I check in and stand at the lift. I let everyone get in and go without me. I don’t want to be responsible for a lift full of guests passing out. Me and the flies go to my room to peel off the crust of another day.
Take a walk around. Novosibirsk is a shit hole. It’s dirty and noisy and falling to pieces. Even the grandiose old station is looking sad and has a homeless nana sleeping on the ground in front of it. Look at this place and whatever your place looks like, be glad you don’t live here.
It’s late and I want to go to bed so I buy some random pots from the supermarket for dinner.
I’m not eating properly and I’m shitting like Jessica Rabbit so I need to sort myself out.
Get out of Novosibirsk and the satnav says “Siberian highway”. That’s good to see at least. Still a fuck load of miles to do though before I turn around and loop back. Russia is just so indescribably bloody MASSIVE.
Mother Siberia is in a foul mood and she’s throwing a fit. Rain, wind and thunder are all on the menu. All this trucks are just throwing filth all day long and as soon as it rains, the Trans Siberian becomes like one long LGBTQ+ zebra crossing. All I can see is a long rainbow of diesel and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I had to go into a town for fuel and it was even worse. If I’d have come off I’d have had a big rainbow printed right down my leathers. It’s on and off all day and my mood goes up and down with the sun and the rain.
Yesterday’s road kill lunch got up early this morning and said it had to leave ASAP. I am glad I’m not a toilet. Tried again today. No slop pots to point at so I just pointed at people’s meals instead. Let’s hope this at least forms some lumps.
You get very used to having cars and trucks overtaking towards you and in the main they’ll get back in about .5 of a second before making contact with the bike, but every now and again, when a truck decides to jump a link in a Truckapilla and cannot get back in, then you’re confronted by furiously flashing lights and you know you’re in a deathly game of Truck, Biker, Scissors. Taking to the gravel emergency lane would make my sphincter implode so I use close my eyes and head for the small gap between truck and tragedy and hope for the best.
Loads of roadworks still. 10 minute waits. Lots of the cars are still wearing their winter duvet nose bags.
Stop for a coffee and fuel. A nice blonde lady offers me a mini-tart “from my heart”. Not something that I usually get offered at the M3 services 
It’s getting late. It’s raining and I’m tired. I see a cheap hotel, give a nana £25 quid and get a key to my cell/room.
Shit and happens have been swinging off the wing mirror and broken it again too. Little fuckers. I’m going to take this out their pocket money.With skills like these, I should definitely apply for The Great Pottery Throw Down
