There was only an hour of daylight left so I wouldn't be able to get to Resistencia before dark.
Just as dusk was falling, I felt another slight vibration but, being really sensible I just carried on at my normal speed.
One minute later the chain broke again.
I was in the middle of nowhere.
The road was busy but no one would stop to help me.
I was standing by the side of the road with my thumb out holding my broken chain in my hand. In hindsight that probably wasn't a very good idea.
As I tried to persuade some one to stop I was glad that I still had my tent and warm sleeping bag. I'd used neither since I left the USA several months ago and kept on thinking about about sending them home. I was now really glad I hadn't.
Once it got dark I was sure no one would stop at all. I'd pitch my tent as far way from the road as possible and just wait for the morning.
A pick up truck went past and started to slow down. He looped back and stopped besides me. I was elated.
He said he'd go back to his farm, get a trailer and return in an hour.
Ten minutes later it was pitch dark.
I sat on the ground further way from the road remembering that sitting in your car on the hard shoulder of any motorway is the most dangerous place to be.
As I was thinking about my good fortune a breakdown truck stopped and put on it's flashing orange lights.
He was a free breakdown service that is paid for by the road tolls. I was so happy to be in Argentina .
I showed him my chain.
He suggested shortening it and then joining it again without a master link by just hammering the pin flat. A brilliant idea.
He drove off with my chain to find a tool to remove two links.
'How far was it?'
'Ten minutes' he replied.
As he drove off my anxiety increased enormously.
He had my chain. If he didn't return I was really buggered.
In the dark things are always much worse. At least I wasn't in Transylvania .
True to his word he reappeared a short while later. We fitted the chain but it was too short. There was no free play at all. It would completely bugger my engine if I used it.
The next plan was to tow me the ten or so kilometres back to the last town.
I'd never been towed by a vehicle before so was slightly nervous. However, he only went slowly and we soon made it back to civilisation.
We met the local police, two up on a Honda 125, the pillion carry a repeating shotgun. It was now half past ten.
They rode off to find a bike mechanic.
A few minutes later we set off again. Juan's shop was still open. The situation was explained and he started looking for the right sized chain to add the few links I needed. It took a while but he eventually found the right size.
Twenty minutes later it was spliced and refitted.
'Would I be able to make it to Resistencia 120km away?'
'Yes if you don't stress the chain and only go slowly, no more than one hundred kilometres an hour'.
I rode at eighty kilometres an hour. I did not want it to break again.
I limped into the outskirts of Resistencia . As I rode round a roundabout I felt another click and the bike started to vibrate a little more.
'Oh shit' not again'.
I needed an hotel. As I approached another Shell station I saw a 'Hotel' sign on the opposite side of the road.
I turned into it and immediately, pulled into my bay in front of my room and had a look at the chain.
One of the side plates had come loose. Lady luck had shined on me again.