Not being one to do things by half, for the second half of my journey I've been under some tight time pressure because my good lady - Tracy - was due to go away on Wednesday 17th of June, so I had to be back at least by then to look after my son. Or preferably a day early if we wanted to spend any time together...


I had a spare week in my initial plan to make this happen, but with all my breakdowns I was 9 days behind schedule, hence the rush through the last few countries.


The P&O Pride of Hull docked on time and after a full English and my first proper PG cuppa since I used up the last of Steve's teabag supply from Bulgaria I was set for the road. Time for a quick goodbye with the Darlo and Frontline SC lads and time to sprint home as the grey day reluctantly gave way to sunshine.


As I rolled closer to home I caught our friend Vicki walking her dog and was invited round for more tea (hurrah) and cake, but I couldn't stay long.


Somehow my wife managed to wangle getting out of work early and to be home an hour before my son got back from school.


Mmm, it's business time.

After a 550km ride from Dresden I had a night in Essen where I got to try out Airbnb for the first time.

Remaining was the short 200km jaunt to my final continental twin city in Rotterdam. With a ferry booked and my guts for my wife's garters if I was late I have never before been so paranoid about creaks and rattles from my scooter. That didn't mean diversions were out of the question though. On the way I took a small detour towards Utrecht to meet with Frank Dietz, a scooterist friend of more than 25 years. Along the way you must take time to smell the flowers. That's the rules...

After the local delicacies of Fristi and uitsmijter it was a short hop to Rotterdam where I was met by Joep from the town council for a most relaxing meeting at an outside table over a pint. Rotterdam is a vibrant multicultural city as well as Europe's biggest port.

All that remained were the few kilometres to Europort where P&O's luxurious Pride of Hull was waiting to whisk me home to my family after 45 days away. How cool then to find other Lambrettas inside from Darlington Scooter Club on their way home from Euro Lambretta in Austria.

Small world ain't it?

After a swift goodbye to Adi and Alex in Cottbus it was a rush to make an appointment in Dresden with journalist Annechristin and photographer Norbert working for the largest regional newspaper.

Despite my scooter feeling rough I pushed hard to make it almost exactly on time.

After a photo session in front of Dresden's beautiful rebuilt church and interview we discussed the chances of getting my paperwork signing for Rotterdam and Coventry. As it was a Saturday Annechristin had little expectation,  but I was optimistic. Moments later we left with all the certificates signed and stamped. Have faith.

At the end of our meeting, lighting flashed overhead and it began to rain. The weather was trying to tell me something, but what? In the end the rain saved my bacon. Don't ignore the coincidences...

That night I spent in a little hotel just outside Dresden to avoid the storms. Back in the West and suddenly the prices become outrageous.

Never mind, only 800km to do over the next 2 days to my final continental meeting in Rotterdam.

After Czech and my night in the Polish castle it was over the border into Germany for the final of Nuneaton's trio of twin towns.

By this stage I am operating entirely on fatalism, so when my first couchsurfing offer comes from Indian student Aditya I'm happy to accept a sofa in the student halls.

Entering town just before lunch on a Friday I know I've got one shot to see the council as most staff knock off early. Upon seeing a Triumph motorcycle dealership, and with Triumph's factory being so close to Nuneaton, I take a gamble on finding an anglophile behind the counter. Alexander, the owner of the shop (US Chopper), is the model of German efficiency. In five minutes and three phone calls I have the name, number and even an appointment with Kristina Neumann from the international relations department. After an entertaining meeting I leave with both her and the Lord Mayor's signatures.

As for the rest of Friday night, that starts with a home-cooked Indian meal, an interview with the local newspaper, more help from Alex, a scooter tour of the city and descends into drunken student oblivion. Absolutely top hole...

Next stop, Dresden.

Leaving Ukraine for the longer route through Romania and Hungary was the right thing to do. My scooter was running well and I had a fantastic ride through the Carpathian mountains.

The next day saw three countries pass under my tyres, eventually ending up in the Slovakian city of Kosice. Here I'd made a contact via CouchSurfing with Viktor - a young teacher and musician - who offered to host me.

Kosice is probably the hippest place I've stopped so far. After practice of Viktor's punk band we parked my Lambretta in the rehearsal rooms and went for a beer in another part of the old converted tobacco factory.

The following morning Viktor had to leave for work at 7am, abandoning me with both his flat and the keys to the rehearsal room. I was on my own to track down someone to help me with my quest.

Andrea from the tourist information office proved to be just the right lady. She managed to railroad the mayor - who just happened to be passing - to sign my certificates for Ostrava and Cottbus. After sorting things out in record time it seemed only fair to take Andrea out for lunch before collecting my scooter, returning Viktor's keys and making tracks for Poland.

One last stop before the border was Andrea's suggestion; a photo opportunity at Spis castle.

Days like that make up for the difficult ones, but there were highs and lows to come before my overnight stop in Poland...

From Poland it was a short hop to my next stop of Ostrava in Czech Republic
The city is twinned with both my nearest city of Coventry and also Dresden; which are both further on in my journey. They are united in the misery of heavy bombardment in Ww2.

My overnight stay was hosted by IT manager Radim who read my blog and offered me a room in his house. Not just any house, but one he built from scratch over several years with only the help of his father. We got on well.

Radim couldn't help with the council, but I tried the tourism office address dug out for me by Andrea from Slovakia. This first office turned out to be in the brutal former steel mill of Vitkovice. At the town hall I had more luck and got all my requirements sorted.

My last job for the day was to follow Radim's suggestion that I visited some ancient rock formations, but this proved to be a site too far. By the time I eventually found them I could not get the images I hoped for.

After criss-crossing the Polish Czech border all day finding somewhere to eat and stay began to prove a challenge, but by a mixture of  luck and judgement I ended up with an impossibly picturesque castle in Poland all to myself for less than the price of a bed in a hostel dormitory in Germany. The former Iron Curtain still has its advantages in terms of price...

I wasn't hugely happy to leave Slovakia because I'd had a great time, but after Spis castle I crossed the back-roads border to reach my destination of nearby Nowy Sacz.

As with many towns at this end of my tour I had no chance, or the language skills to pre-organise any meetings.  So far my seat-of-the-pants apathetic optimism had always turned up trumps. Why not here too?

The answer came as soon as I rolled onto the drive of my earlier booked accommodation of Gościnny Domek where I was greeted by the wonderful Hanne like a long lost relative. As an anglophile she was happy to hear of my adventure and immediately volunteered to come with me to the council offices the following day. More than that, she even loaned me some Polish money so I could go to the nearby Apollo restaurant before it closed!

The following day we bagged the council and I bought Hanne some breakfast by way of thanks. Top job. Gościnny Domek is a wonderful place to stay if you are ever passing southern Poland.

Next stop Czech Republic and another try at CouchSurfing...

OK, so I was warned against both the roads and the problems in Ukraine but I still had to go to make my delivery in Chernivets.


Entering Ukraine was a laugh thanks to the young customs officer who said incredulously , "you are coming here on that piece of shit? ". He soon apologised and we got on well.

My contact, through Couchsurfing, was senior student Janos, who is actually Hungarian, but as an amateur history nut he probably knew more about this former outpost of the Austro-Hungarian empire than the locals. He was good company throughout.

What can I say about the city? Only that the roads are simply the worst I've ever ridden (including Vespa Raid Morocco) but both the buildings and the women are fantastically well constructed.

It was clear though that my idea to ride across Ukraine to Slovakia would probably result in a smashed scooter. With no spare hub, shock or indeed insurance, I made the difficult decision to head south into Romania again and take a far longer but ultimately safer route through Hungary...

After my evening with the North Gang Riders MC at their club night I was kindly hosted by vice-president Florin and family (wife Dana and daughters Diana and Florintina) at their house in the countryside.

Overnight Florin concocted a plan to help me sort my badly running scooter by fitting all the parts Scooter Centre Koln sent when I was stranded in Bacau.

He arranged for the box of parts to be brought 200km from Intermoto while fellow clubmate Mihai gave me free run of his workshop to do engine rebuild no2.

This time I would not piss about, it would be a full rebuild with a new 60mm stroke BGM crank and new bearings. It all went to plan right up to the moment I realised one vital packing plate was not included. Queue massive stress and all hands on deck to sort a workaround. By 7pm it was back on its wheels and running, but still with niggles to fix the following day before tackling Ukraine.

That night in a state of mental and physical exhaustion I asked Florin if he knew what the twin towns of Suceava were. Well, didn't it turn out that one was also Chernivets in Ukraine and I was heading there the following day...

After another morning making adjustments to the scooter with Pavlov in Bacau I felt ready to tackle Iasi near Moldova.

My cousin found me a contact in the city in the form of fellow writer Oana who offered to host me and make arrangements with the city council and newspapers.

Before I even reached her flat however I was pulled over by fellow overlander Julian who lives in Iasi and formed part of a team who drove an old Romanian 4x4 to the far side of Siberia. The three of us ate together. It turned into a late, entertaining night followed by an early morning for a meeting with the council's charming international relations representative Elena Farca.

Next, a lesson on the political underbelly of Iasi from local journalist Catalin.

A violent thunderstorm delayed my departure for Suceava for a couple of hours. Earlier I'd arranged to meet up with the North Gang Riders MC who'd stopped for me when I was broken down on Sunday. On the way I rode into a hideous headwind, but it was worth it for the warm welcome I received at their clubhouse. Good people.  The episode on Suceava does not end there...

Precious teabags!