The End of the Road

© Alisa Clickenger / RumBum.com

The burglary at the Paraguay/Argentina border forced several things to a head. I'd been on the road for over six months, and was feeling a bit worn-out. Responsibilities back home were mounting – and were getting harder and harder to put off. I still had my passport and riding gear, but I was almost out of cash. It seemed the decision to go home was being made for me.

I picked Buenos Aires as my exit, taking the direct route through the Northern flatlands of Argentina. I covered almost 900 miles in two days, each revolution of the wheel bringing me further away from the languid days of travel and closer to “modern civilization” in the big city. 

By the time I arrived at Dakar Motos, I was feeling demoralized, melancholy and beat up from the long days of non-stop go. I was sad to be ending the trip, even sadder that in six months of travel, I'd been so shaken up in the final days of my trip. I was extremely disappointed that I was ending my tip on a sour note and resented the burglars almost more than the missing cash.

© Alisa Clickenger / RumBum.comYet I was safely at the end of my journey, and I decided to focus on the task at hand in order to figure out my exit strategy. Argentina has very strict motorbike import laws, and while I was given a 241 day permit for the Suzuki, if I went over I would be subject to a fine up to five times greater than the value of the bike.

Too steep a fine to risk it, Sandra at Dakar Motos organized an appointment for me at the airport, and on the designated day I took the final ride of my trip to Ezeiza, the Buenos Aires International Airport. Luckily there was much to do to prep the bike for airplane travel, and that kept the sadness of ending my trip at bay. I disconnected the battery, removed the luggage, took off the mirrors, and removed the front wheel in order to make the shipment as small as possible.

The customs agent came and cleared the motorbike for travel. The shippers wrapped up my bike, pallet and all, in plastic wrap, and put a label on it. I shook hands with the airport helpers and walked out to the airport shuttle.

Just like that, I was officially done with the riding portion of my trip. Now all I had to do was figure out how to be a tourist without a motorbike while I waited for my own passenger flight.