13 Sep 06
Just 45 minutes is all it takes to rebuild the brakes, and we're off to Thanjavur. The temple here is a relatively modest 1000 years old, but the golden sandstone structure is so stunning it's won World Heritage status. Locals know it simply as 'the big temple', and it definitely dwarfs the resident elephant that'll bless you on the head if you stick enough rupees in its trunk.
Then comes the crunch. Our ropey gears expire utterly on the outskirts and we roll to a halt, closely followed by our new friends the mechanics. Up in the air, new Matchbox-sized gearbox fitted, and... still no good. Nothing for it. Time for a new engine. Around six other teams have stopped to wait and we hear similarly bad stories. Two Indian motoring journalists also needed a roadside motor swap ('I've been racing bikes for seven years and I've never needed a new engine,' Karan Singh Bedi complains); Pukka Tuk Tuk, the Bridlington retirees, are on engine number three. Extreme Trifle lost their exhaust and have been seen driving with toilet paper in their ears, while the Norfolk reggae boys are suffering from chronic overheating (rear-engined and air-cooled, not a great combination in the tropics). The Trifle team then lose their headlight after shunting the Pukka couple, who had to emergency brake for a monkey. Weird thing is, every story is recounted with glee, not a grimace. On this rally, even breaking down is fun.
All this slows the group and our rickshaw catches up. The gears remain ropey, but liveable with. Good job, because India now throws up new obstacles: schoolchildren and rain. The countryside might be changing to include the odd hill and, bizarrely, a red rock of Ayers proportions, but we can't look too closely because we need to keep our eyes on the road. Schools pour out at 4pm and suddenly the roads are full of squabbling, wobbling boys on bikes, more concerned with cheering than steering. The monsoon rain is worse, given our lack of a windscreen wiper. It falls steadily as we approach Madurai, famous for (guess what?) its breathtaking temple, and India's abrupt nightfall is closing fast. The town traffic is vile, the brakes are useless wet, and we're having to navigate using a simply drawn tourist map. But it's worth it - the £14-a-night Taj Garden is a hilltop retreat of impeccably landscaped luxury. Humour restored, we sink into armchairs on the polished wood verandah. Time to text home: 'Still alive'.
