So it seems the motorbike needs some fixing. He puts me aside while working on it so I will not get oil on me. He explains me what is happening. He never talked to me before but he seems to be alone lately. Or misses someone he would have explained it to. A certain sadness. So it seems you can destroy screws by using them often. And they were used often. It is the cap of the oilfilter that he changed. He screws it back carefully with some glue and fills up the oil. Starting the engine takes a while but when it started oil starts pumping out the cap like a bleeding animal. So it seems this is a problem. I am left alone with the dying and bleeding motorbike here. Darkness sets late here. Way after 11. The next day the wearer apparently got some spare parts. He takes out the cap which lets lots of oil escape the bike. I hope it can cope with so much loss. The engine starts and the wearer seems to be happy with it. He takes me with him upstairs to his room. It is such a mess. So much stuff lying around on different piles. It seems we are going away again. This time with as much stuff as possible. I see even a tent. Sleeping bag. Some electronics I have not seen before.