Best Day So Far, Part 1

Two blogs today: both stories being somewhat different.

The day started early — at midnight, to be precise — when the hotel telephone rang in our bedroom. It is never good news to be woken by a telephone in the night, and whilst stumbling around, trying to work out what that noise was and then wondering where the blasted thing was, I woke with a start. Adrenaline pumping, I picked up. A Chinese voice asked what my room number was.

Was this some honeypot scheme drawn up by the MSS (the equivalent of MI6), and was I being asked if I wanted something quite naughty? I was about to reply that I am happily married, thank you — and less important, but still relevant in the circumstances, my wife was in bed with me! Then came a voice I recognised. Ham!

“What the blazes?” I said. He had lost his room key and couldn’t remember which room was his, so he instructed the poor receptionist to call every room for the gweilos until one didn’t answer! In the morning, I was informed by Nigel that he experienced the same call but couldn’t get to the phone in time, whereupon a knock came on his door and a young lady was on the other side (see above for his immediate thought) — and then none other than Ham appeared sheepishly from around the corner.

So, the day started proper with a farewell to David, and then to the petrol station to fill up. As a consequence of the late-night revelry of some in the party (yes, yes, always the same people), we found the buddy system fell apart a bit. Ham, who had Eric as co-driver in replacement for David, sped off, determined to get to the hotel as quickly as possible to lay his sore head on a pillow. Chris and Arthur, feeling much the same but restricted by a slower car, did the same but at a gentler pace.

I blame the Balvenie.

The not-so-late revellers fell into company and drove along at speed through fascinating views and scenery. The traffic was middling but well spaced, and so overtaking became a joy. Finely judged acceleration — always an art in an antique car at 4,000 metres — yielded some excellent results. Both drivers fully enjoyed themselves whilst the passengers prayed and trusted everything to their judgement.

At the start, we came across a confusing plethora of newly built, being-built, and old roads going in every direction possible — absolutely like Spaghetti Junction but on steroids.

Then into new country. Different architecture. Different faces. Different driving styles.

We had lunch, admiring the view and giving thanks to our old bangers, who were performing without a blip. What? I hear you say. The Vauxhall, which has been struggling these past few days with the altitude, has come alive — thanks to some excellent advice from Tom, the engine man at Blakeney Motor Sport, to keep weakening the fuel mixture and worry not about burning anything out, and an obvious solution to spark-plug resource efficiency: swap the darned things around. We found that happy occurrence of finely tuned motor, keen driver, and beautiful sweeping roads in good weather — bringing the day into Top Day reckoning.