Back in the village, we stopped for gas and debated if we had time to do any more sightseeing and still be able to make it back to the condo before nightfall.
Which proved to be the perfect place to see just how fast our scooters could go when maxed out. Here's me risking certain death by taking a photo of my bike overtaking Grant's at 90+ km (approx. 55mph).
Worried about losing daylight, we decided to hit the road again and head for the Melidoni Caves. Here's us stopping to let a herd of goats cross the road.
The backroad route we took was amazing. There were all these tiny towns that with the exception of cars and electricty, seemed otherwise untouched by the 20th century. Check out the donkeys saddled with bags in the background.
Our bellies full of warm doughnut, we hit the open road. We decided to take a 45 km backroads trip to check out the bad-ass Arkadi Monastery and then from there, if we had enough light, ride another 25 km and check out the Melidoni Caves.
We saddled back up on our HOGGZ and hit the road. We only managed to get about 1/4 mile when Grant, who was leading the pack, slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road hysterically laughing and pointing...
...took a few more "look at us...ON SCOOTERS!" pictures, and then returned them back to the rental place. We grabbed our rental car and drove into town looking for a place to grab a nice dinner.
How tough is the Fatty in this pic? See that drop off behind Fatty in the pic? That's actually a steep road that leads down to this little tiny part of the penninsula that goes out into the water. We drove down to explore and take a closer look.
Turns out, the highway was way less scary than the little road we'd been riding through town. On the little road, we were forced to ride in the sketchy, pothole ridden shoulder, where we constantly had to worry about cars pulling out in front of us and dogs that were running around in the street. But on the highway there was hardly any traffic and the shoulder was wide and smoothly paved. (By the way, you know you totally love my wind-styled Farrah Fawcett wings. They're the latest in cycling fashion.)
Grant was pretty spooked about the broken gas line. His grandmother had once told him "Whatever you do, DON'T ride a moped in Greece! Promise me, ok?" and he felt like it was a sign that he shouldn't get back on the bike. But we told him, "Stop being silly. She said MOPED in GREECE! You're on a SCOOTER in CRETE! Apples and oranges, my friend! It's totally different! Stop being such a pussy!"
Our cajoling managed to get him down the coastal road for the first ten kilometers of our trip - but when the small country lane we were riding on ended and it became apparent that we'd have to ride on the big, four-lane highway for the remainder of our trip, he was decidedly unhappy. We gave him another pep talk ("You're on a SCOOTER, remember? Scooter! Not moped!") and hit the big, bad highway.
We hit the road and were headed for Balí when about three minutes into the trip Grant's bike stalled out and wouldn't restart. We all pulled over and a quick examination revealed that the liquid puddling underneath his bike was, in fact, gasoline. Yep, blown gas line. No big deal we figured. We'd all ride back and get Grant a new bike. Chris hopped on his bike to come with us, and his bike wouldn't restart either. FUCK! So Fatty and Chris agreed to wait 1/2 mile down the road while Grant and I went back to talk to the scooter guy.
