A month spent riding aimlessly around Europe on a motorcycle, with your girlfriend sounds easy enough. A perfect and economical middle-weight motorcycle, the best GPS on the market, carefully considered upgrades, a well-thought out luggage system and a partner who was a seasoned traveller. How could everything go so horribly wrong, that for much of the time, suicide seemed the better option?
Armed with a GPS that couldn’t get itself out of the port car-park, a partner who turned out to be less useful than soap in a French bathroom, a top-speed that felt like we were barely moving, luggage that spread itself out all over Italy, a head-full of mental illness and with my home-town on fire, the pair of us ventured into the unknown.
This is the story of why I finally left England, the rants and ruminations of a man coming to terms with the fact that the world was all a bit silly and he no longer wanted to be a part of it. After doing everything completely right, still everything went totally wrong. It was like voting against Hillary Clinton and getting stuck with Donald Trump.
Armed with a GPS that couldn’t get itself out of the port car-park, a partner who turned out to be less useful than soap in a French bathroom, a top-speed that felt like we were barely moving, luggage that spread itself out all over Italy, a head-full of mental illness and with my home-town on fire, the pair of us ventured into the unknown.
This is the story of why I finally left England, the rants and ruminations of a man coming to terms with the fact that the world was all a bit silly and he no longer wanted to be a part of it. After doing everything completely right, still everything went totally wrong. It was like voting against Hillary Clinton and getting stuck with Donald Trump.
