As I sit writing this in a restaurant I’m listening to the amazing sounds of the first electronic cuckoo clock I have ever heard. Now I know why I was so fortunate in having to wait so long.

It’s 2pm and Parral is dead. Everyone has disappeared for his or her siesta. From 1pm to 3pm all the shops shut and the once bustling, colourful streets are deserted. It’s like an early Sunday morning at home.

I have another tale of adversity and good fortune. It never ceases to amaze me how kind people can be to some one they’ve neither met before nor can understand a word of what they’re saying. Naturally, my exhaustive planning stage did not include any Spanish lessons.

The adverse element was an oil leak on my bike. A chain drives the rear wheel from a small sprocket on the right side of the engine. This small front sprocket is just besides my heel so it is covered by a plastic shroud. I cut a hole in the centre of the shroud so I keep an eye on the bolt that holds the sprocket on.

While I was riding across the States I noticed there was some light brown/orange dust on the centre of the sprocket. Being a true, experienced, mechanic I hoped it wasn’t serious, cleaned off the dust and hoped it didn’t happen again. There was a little less dust the next day and thereafter, whenever I looked, it was clean.

All I could think of was that it was either the deterioration of the seal behind the sprocket or something nasty and terminal. It really shouldn’t fail after 6,000km on a new bike. The one on my old bike did go but only after 26,000 km.

Once in Mexico on the way to Creel and the bike rally I saw a thin film of orange oil on the sprocket. I knew then that the seal had gone but was a bit confused as to why it wasn’t a brown, oil colour. I cleaned it off and it stayed clean unless I went over eighty miles an hour when it was plastered in the stuff.

I decided I had to find out firstly, if it riding with it could damage the engine and secondly to arrange for the parts to be sent ahead they’d be there when I arrived.

The first decent sized town after Creel was Parral which was only ninety kilometres away. I rode into town at about 10am looking for a cheap hotel. I needed somewhere to store all my bike gear while I went off to find an internet café and find out if and where there were any KTM dealers in Mexico. My guide book said Parral had a café with a fast connection so I could also upload my most recent photos onto my web site. I’d given up in Creel because the speed was so slow.

I followed the ‘Centro’ signs as the road headed into town. After a short while the road forked but it wasn’t obvious which was the main road. Needless to say there was no sign. I guessed left. A few hundred metres ahead I spotted a group of cyclists in white T shirts and black trousers.

Were they part of a tour or club?

No. they were the local policemen on their shiny new mountain bikes.

I stopped and enquired:

‘Donde est Hotel Fuentes, por favour?’

After a few changes of pronunciation and pointing to the hotel’s name in my book a spark of recognition flickered across one of their faces and he and his friend beckoned me to follow them.

Off we went at a steady 15kmh, left, right, left, over the bridge and through the square. It’s a lot easier to get about if you have your own personal police outriders. They led me to the front of the hotel and I thanked them profusely. I checked in amid more hilarious total incomprehension on both sides and set off to look for my fast connection.

I wish I’d played charades more often and was a lot better at it. I think my meaning is totally obvious but my actions and sounds leave them completely baffled most of the time. I have now graduated to an advanced form of 'Pictionary'.

I asked a few shopkeepers where ‘Infosel’ was but to no avail. I started walking down what appeared to be the main shopping street in front of my hotel. After one hundred metres to my amazement I saw a large ‘Infosel’ sign hanging over the pavement.

Jesus spoke English and couldn’t have been kinder. Firstly, I wanted to call my local dealer in England to make sure I wasn’t going to damage the engine by riding it. He sent me off to buy a phone card but after three tries I returned empty handed. They only sold mobile phone cards not the ones I was after.

I slightly cheekily asked if I could use his phone and pay for the time. He agreed. I said when I called the US from Creel my card fifty pesos only lasted five minutes. I was going to call the UK which was a lot further away, so could I pay him twenty pesos a minute?

He wouldn’t have it.

‘I will charge you five pesos a minute’ he said.

He wouldn’t accept any more. I hoped he didn’t do this every time some one arrived for it might explain why his business wasn’t quite making as much money as it should.

I called the UK but the shops were shut because of the time difference. I had a quick surf to find a local KTM dealer.

This is one of the major drawbacks of owning a KTM. They are a very small manufacturer and have an appalling parts supply network. There are very few dealers around the world and if they don’t have the part it can take a couple of weeks for it to arrive. Honda, however, is amazing. There are Honda dealers all over the world and, for example, if the part I need isn’t in stock at my local London dealer it will arrive the next day having been sourced from Belgium. Just like internet sales, order fulfillment is everything.

There were only two KTM dealers in Mexico. One was in Mexico City and the other in Puerto Vallarta. I checked on my map and found that PV was only a few hundred kilometres off my route. My guide book said it was an international resort with a couple of golf courses. It seemed the perfect place to hang out for a few days waiting for my bits to arrive.

I called the PV dealer who had neither of the parts I needed in stock. Rodolpho said he’d call the importer to see if they had them and he’d call me back in half an hour, at 12.30.

Jesus explained that he shut for lunch at 12.45 to pick his son up from school. Rodolpho hadn’t called me by 12.35 so I called him back. He’d been unable to get through so he gave me the number and I called them myself. I got through and asked him to send two of them to the PV dealer, Vallarta Motorsport.

Jessica, Jesus’ wife arrived and said they had to leave in two minutes. Jesus said I was making some important calls and suggested she pick him up and return to collect him afterwards. I was touched and thanked him again.

I managed to get through to my UK dealer who assured me the engine would be fine as long as it didn’t run out of oil. He also added that two of his customers had bodged their bikes in Africa using silicone bathroom sealant.

I’d spent at least six minutes to the UK and half an hours internet time. Jesus would only take twenty pesos. Hugely loss making and very kind.

I decided to get some phone cards rather than take any further advantage of Jesus’ kindness and so I could make calls while they were shut. He drew me an excellent map to the Telmex offices.

I left Infosel at about one o’clock. I went off for lunch, to get some phone cards and to look for silicone sealer.

I had only just left the restaurant when I felt the force. I could see a large shop whose sign gave me ironmonger vibes. I crossed the street and saw a large ‘Black and Decker’ display in the window. I walked in and walked to the counter to check out the stuff on the shelves behind.

In a few seconds I saw the words ‘Silicone’ on a packet.

‘Yes’. I decided to try and bodge it after ordering the new seal.

I tried asking two more people for phone cards as the Telmex office was quite a way away, but without success. The third person pointed across the street to an hotel not ten metres away. Success.

I went back to my hotel, removed the sprocket and looked at the main seal. It looked ok but the shaft was covered in orange oil. I then remembered there was a small spacer behind it. I took this off and saw the cause of my problem. There was a small silicone ‘O’ ring which seals the spacer against the main bearing. I'd completely forgotten about it. It didn't look good.

It had gone black and crusty on one side where it had been overheating. There were a few small hard tags which I broke off with my fingers. It must have been installed dry which would explain the initial orange dust. When it eventually overheated it went black and distorted so leaking oil.

I started to squeeze in silicone sealant but was having doubts. If it got into the oil and wasn’t captured by a filter it could block an oil way and bugger the engine completely. I removed the silicone and replaced the sprocket.

I got my laptop open again to identify the part number I needed. Loading the parts book on my pc was one of my better planning decisions. I noted the number down and went off to call the Mexican dealers. Neither had any in stock. I called the biggest US dealer who had plenty but wanted an email order with credit card and ship to details etc.

I went back to Infosel and emailed the required information. I asked them to air freight two ‘O’ rings in a letter to try and avoid duty and make it arrive more quickly. They were one dollar each. The airfreight was thirty five dollars.

I asked Jesus what I owed him for the internet time. He wouldn't accept anything at all. I thanked him profuesly and, as we left the building, I said:

'I had a feeling you wouldn't let me pay anything so I hope you'll accept this instead'. I handed him a bottle of wine I'd bought for this very purpose at lunchtime.

On the way back to my hotel I stopped off in a camera shop enquiring about developing slide film.

No, I didn’t want to buy any print film. No, I didn’t have a print film to develop. No, I didn’t want any slide film. I drew a superbly clear picture of a new film going into the camera, being removed and processed by a machine creating slides and a cd. No, they couldn’t do that. It would take several days. Phew.

I then went into a shoe shop looking for some laces. I removed the surviving lace from my boot. It was quite a bit longer than I thought – two metres. No, they didn’t have any that long but some one was sent off to look for some. A few minutes later he returned shaking his head. No, again.

Feeling slightly disconsolate but glad I tried I went back to my hotel. As I entered the foyer, the concierge came up to me smiling.

‘You want a lady?’.

Having led a sheltered life I wasn’t used to this direct approach.

‘I have a lady for you’, he said pointing towards the front of the hotel, still smiling broadly.

Thoughts of ‘I wonder how much this will be?’ and of ‘When in Rome’ went through my head.

‘Very nice lady’.

‘She’s ready now’.

I’m sure she was. They usually are.

I was starting to feel rather uncomfortable at the heavy sales pitch. After all, it was only seven o’clock, which was a bit early, even for me. I said I didn’t really want one right now but perhaps a bit later and started to back away towards the stairs.

At that moment I spotted a very attractive girl, with a fantastic figure, coming across the hotel foyer.

‘Oh well, I suppose I should just go with the flow’ I thought.

Then realised it was Jessica, Jesus’ wife.

She explained that they’d been looking for me to ask if I would join them for dinner. They’d missed me because I’d been into a few shops on the way back but then caught sight of me just as I walked across the street in front of the hotel.

We had a lovely evening and a lovely meal. Again Jesus wouldn’t let me pay for anything.

That helped me make up my mind. Talking about food during dinner I explained that I didn’t like corn tortillas. Jessica got them to give me both corn and only flour ones so I could order the right ones in the future.

This led me to thinking about strange English food, so I told them all about Marmite, Bovril (which must be concentrated mad cow), Horlicks, Ovaltine and horseradish sauce. I resolved there and then to ask my mother to send them a jar of each as a small thank you.

It will be interesting to see what they think of them.