Last night I got sick of worrying about the poor starting of the bike and asked the hotel manager for advice for a good mechanic. As luck would have it, he is a motorcycle racer and keen two wheel traveller. Called his mechanic and within five minutes I was booked in for ten this morning. As luck would have it, I walked out to the bike this morning to find fuel running out of the air filter. Not a moment too soon. Got the bike to the shop ASAP and a very serious looking little bloke called Oscar met me there. Language was a bit of an issue, but eventually we got through it. He quoted me 50€ to clean the carburetor out and check it over. No problem. I left the shop and walked about the new town for a few hours. Looking for a pair of shorts and looking in shop windows. Wouldn't mind getting a jamón holder. A big jig for putting your leg of ham in. After a sandwich and orange juice I made my way back to the hotel for my siesta. A few hours of sleep and it was time to check on the bike. It was grim and serious face that greeted me at the door as Oscar told me in his best sign language that the injectors on this machine were not functional and the parts were on order. "Manyana" that dreaded word that actually means next week or "at my leisure". Hardly ever "tomorrow". We shall see. So as a precaution I have booked in for another night and am sitting tight. This place is cheap and is pretty nice so it is not really a problem. I could have been stuck in worse places. So it's tape as for dinner and no spence of urgency, because there is nothing I can do about it.