Bon Sang!

What a trip this has become, Myself and Manu are now residing overnight in a small hostelery outside of the town of Troyes. Yes, our little Bleriot has developed a problem, an intermittent sparking, or mixture problems, maybe even water in the fuel, but it's too cold and not enough tools to diagnose our plane's condition this afternoon. As it is we're lucky to have landed West of town, because the land gets wilder and more forested the further east of Troyes we travel. We especially lucked out with a relatively flat and unploughed bit of pasture to make our sputtering landing on.

Manu is a bit upset, as he oversaw the installation of the new engine himself. It's an unforeseen he should have foreseen I'm guessing. 'My friend, we're all going to have bad days...' I try to make small talk and defuse his frustration. We, after my landing, find a small land holder with a 'barn' nearby we can park the aeroplane in, more of an open sided roof, but it is sheltered with large stacks of hay and a west wall. His wife serves us a good lunch before I walk into town to contact Epinal and Belfort. Our farmer friend's tools are a bit limited for the job Manu considers for repair, so we look in town for tools we can borrow or rent. We may be here another day.

The aerodrome at Mirecourt wants to send a truck out and haul us the rest of the way in. Manu is stubborn, "I will get this going again, and we will arrive under our own power." he chides me when I suggest we take the offer for haulage. I sort of understand his pride in this, but I outrank him a little. "We fold the wings up and wait for a lift, I don't see the problem." But then I remember his wager, how much does he have riding on this trip?

We turn in for the evening, the short daylight limits us to a quick bit of morning wrenching and I trust that Manu's knowledge with aero engines should get us on our way.

Barmy OFFer in questionable standing, maybe collapsed in a corner?

Join the few, the touched, the moon spacklers.