From the Library

[Biggles]

The angular headwinds switch directions unpredictably, flinging me about while I struggle to maintain lane position. On the plus side, there's no traffic and the road is paved. Even with the throttle wide open, the seventy to eighty mph headwinds keep me at fifty. Gas mileage drops from fifty miles per gallon to the low thirties. I crouch behind the fairing, throw all my weight toward the gale-force blast, and hang on. When slowing down to stop for fuel, the moment I pull in the clutch, it's as though I squeezed the front brake. Once, I came to a complete stop without braking and actually started rolling backwards, blown by the wind. It's 
far too intense to ride more than six hours at a time, but there are 1,200 miles left to Buenos Aires, and I want out of this madness.
Two Wheels Through Terror  Glen Heggstad  p275-6

[Biggles]

Waiting at a small-town traffic signal, above the sound of the engine's idle, I hear the dreaded noise that sickens hearts of motorcycle riders- metal to metal contact. The low-pitched grinding noise, barely audible above the roar of the wind, compels me to stop and inspect, hoping it's my imagination. Perhaps something caught in the fender. No such luck.
Motorcycles are not popular in South America and outside of major cities there are few shops that sell or repair them. Even in capital cities, Kawasaki dealers are rare. Argentina is more up-to-date and I keep my fingers crossed while asking around for a repair shop. Yes, two blocks down and turn right- a small miracle. Close enough to push and coast. A lucky day after all. The owner is a professional motocross rider who also builds motors, and is about as good a man as you'll ever find. 
We unbolt the top end to check the valves and work downward from there. Finally we pull the timing chain and alternator to discover an ear broken off the crankcase and the balance chain tensioner is  shattered into five pieces. No parts available in the hemisphere.
Two Wheels Through Terror  Glen Heggstad  p276