I laughed out loud as we got caught behind the slowest tractor ever, which crawled up the hill out of Sommerach at a speed so leisurely that it failed to register on our speedometer.
Besides every plan going horribly awry, a further feature of this year’s tour has been a plenitude of Farmer Palmers. They seem to lie in wait, then shoot out from their side roads the minute they see us coming with the caravan.
Since the caravan brakes didn’t fail and we’ve already used up the stress-making options of a Kamikaze Lorry and towing a caravan through the Mistral, Mark tried to add a different layer of excitement to our departure. As he loaded the bikes on to the van, he tried to amputate the end of his finger on my spokes.