An absurd suggestion
“We rode in tighter formation for the last few miles approaching Cefchaouen, now visible high above, set out on the hill slopes of the Riff. Tight left-hand turn, tight right-hand turn, again and again, while steadily climbing....
“As we penetrated the urban streets, they quickly narrowed and filled with an exotic mixture of people, animals, vehicles, all forced to move at a uniform foot pace. To follow the tightly turning, slowly crawling Range Rover we needed to manage the bikes at less-than-ideal speeds. It was a matter of managing clutch, throttle and brakes, interspersed with slick gear changes. Either side of us there were terraced exotic buildings painted in azure blue, their steps and detailing hewn by hammer against chisel out of hard rock. Berbers stood and watched us pass. We stopped, started, weaved, dodged, revved and cursed, while our clattering exhausts sent a cacophony of engine noise against the walls either side of the tunnelled streets as a continual stream of vocal protest about the congestion...”
Tough terrain
“We settled into a rhythm dictated by our four-stroke engines pounding out progress. We
