A morning of no push starts, no break downs and a long, fairly turgid highway had left the ricketeers on the edge of boredom for the first time on the trip. Then, just as the yawns began, yet another car pulls alongside Granny. The usual hand waving followed that we've learnt means 'Please pull over, I would like to waste your time and take multiple photos of you.' As hardened travellers and used to the celeb attention we gave a blasé hand off, shouting back that we can't stop, no time... 'But I'm a news reporter and I want to do a story on you!' Say whaaat? Yep, you heard it folks - we've hit the big time! Naturally we suddenly found time in our busy schedule to perform a roadside interview for a National Indian News Agency, ABP news. You know it's an exciting moment when HKC manages to rouse herself from the 11 o'clock snooze for it and coincidentally, just as the camera started to roll, the girls' hair found a way to untangle itself from their buns and flow lusciously downwards. Interview performed, the news team asked if they could film us driving and so with heavy fears of the infamous stall, Gee and PB revved to the max and edged ever so slowly back on to the highway. Gee was evidently enjoying the limelight as she continued to cruise at c.10km/h down a national highway with the cameras rolling next to her. Then, as the TV crew looked set to pull away and we prepared for a return to turgidity, the Indian traffic police shocked everybody with a never before seen show of diligence by pulling us over and asking to see our licence, thankfully licence-less HKC was not at the wheel. Somewhat surprised by this act of diligence, when the general in charge put reflective tape on the back of our rickshaws and demanded he be interviewed about the safety benefits it provided to us, the team quickly realised that this was the most shameless attempt to get on TV since Kim Kardashian released her infamous sex tape. We are not convinced the Indian people will care about 5 foreigners doing a road trip, but we are at least confident that they will find us more interesting than a middle aged man talking about reflective tape. Suitably chuffed with our first interview and with escaping the road police, we were brought back to earth by a long, hot afternoon on the national highway which led us to resort to 45 minute driving rotations in a desperate attempt to stay awake on our route into Kohlapur. Having safely settled into a rather nice hotel, the team reflected on their first full day without a breakdown. This lack of excitement clearly didn't sit well with PB, whose stomach decided to perform its own form of evening entertainment and everyone else was entertained by a tense game of backpacker. With everyone in bed by 11 once again, the big question leading into the next day was how on earth we are goaing to party in Goa when none of us can make it past midnight.
After the now traditional Hilary Duff tune to get things goaing the next morning, the team contemplated the day ahead. Oh my Goash, they thought, next stop Goa! And so, after an unusually slow start in terms of brekky, the 'shaws once again got going without any need for a push start leaving us all dreaming of a second day of no breakdowns. However, whilst one day of not breaking down was pretty fantastical, two days would have probably left us wondering whether someone had secretly swapped Granny for a new rickshaw and so it was not surprising that after a couple of hours of Goalorius driving through rural roads, we stopped to check Granny's nuts and bolts and found the exhaust once again ready to fall off. This precipitated the now all too familiar routine of finding the nearest village, looking suitably desperate, saying mechanic repeatedly and relying on the friendly / bemused locals to help us out. Whilst they are very friendly and knowledgeable about shaws, we remain unsure as to their ability as mechanics given their apparent inability to to tighten nuts and bolts that stay on for longer than a day. Nevertheless, we were soon #ontheroadagain and the driving just got ever more beautiful as we drifted around serene mountain corners and looked out onto lush Indian countryside. With an abundance of downhills adding about 10km/h to our average speed, and a quick stop at a particularly beautiful point barely denting this unheralded progress, we decided to press and aim to get their for the late 2.30 lunch.
Ha. Ha. Ha. How foolish the young can be and a paltry 5 miles from Anjuna (beach resort we were aiming for), we were made to pay for this insolence as Granny finally bit the dust. The deterioration Granny had shown through the long lunchtime session came to a tee when as we went to pull away for this shortest final stint, there was a loud cracking / smashing sound which even the least mechanical could figure out was not good news. Whilst we have had parts split, fall off, crack and puncture we have never had one completely shatter and so as we looked under her engine to see plastic everywhere, it was part sadness and part admiration at her for finding yet another way to breakdown. For once mechanics were not forthcoming and so with the plan for a late lunch now long consigned to the history books, PB and HKC went for a real merry go round of the local town before finally finding a rickshaw mechanic in the depths of the darkest of dark avenues. Doubts about their credentials arose when they asked if we could tow Granny to them - with only 7hp we would probably still be there had we tried and so persuaded them to come out and take a look. They immediately told us the fan was shattered but once again found the exhaust was hanging on by seemingly nothing. A rather precarious drive to the mechanics and a full assessment there showed that she was so sick she'd have to spend the night and the whole of the next day in their care.
And so it was left to Mr Mercury to carry us the last stretch to Anjuna. And what a heavy burden it was. With all five of us jammed in (one thing off the rickshaw bucket list), as well as five large backpacks, our day packs, several litres of petrol and the cricket bat, it was a load no rickshaw should ever have to bear. But lil' old Freddie managed like a true champ, grinding his way up a kilometre of hill at a steady 10km/hr. He heaved and strained and in the end that little three wheeler triumphed into a Goargeous sunset. However, the road as per was full of potholes and as he struggled the last few kilometres with all those humps and bumps he broke his shaft.
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