
Stories and anecdotes from part of my life in 2 British police forces, years in saddles of motorcycles - and other places I've blundered into ©
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
She may very well pass for forty three (In the dusk, with the light behind her) *

Friday, 19 March 2010
Bear in the air

Wednesday, 17 March 2010
INTERLUDE: Something for all you Health & Safety freaks
Where's the `road closed` signs and an eagle-eyed PCSO directing traffic when you need one....Whats that? Its a fake? What's fake?
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Yes, I do believe it's Spring

Friday, 12 March 2010
Just when you need a change in the law, nothing happens fast.

Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Entirely my own fault - Bollocks!

And I was hoping the winter was on its way out.
Yesterday at 9am I made the most basic of errors and turned down a sideroad short cut to avoid some traffic lights. As I got to the bottom of this road the surface suddenly took on the appearance of the downhill ski section of Cypress Mountain, Whistler. A light kiss of back brake - ABS kicks in, max chat - just the time you probably don't want it, along with the 1:7 hill. The ice was not patchy, there were no patches, there was, however, zero grip - lots of it.
I glided slowly into the thankfully empty, quiet suburban T junction, having made the decision to come to a halt, after my gentle right turn (there was a parked car dead ahead), and re-assess continued travel. I turned right as intended, straightend up and selected my landing site, just ahead of another parked car. But the road was now the fully monty bobsled run and what appeared to be slushy snow, was solid ice. At what was no more than a brisk walking pace, the back wheel drifted gracefully left, aided by the camber, whilst I applied more and more oppo lock until the bars were full left on the stops. I really wanted more. In my youth I'd seen Ivan Mauger do this stuff at 70mph using one hand, but those nice BMW guys in Bavaria hadn't allowed me more lock and my tyres were fresh out of spikes. I was bolt upright, sliding ever so slowly sideways down the road, almost broadside. I even had time to confirm that the clutch was in and I wasn't standing on any brakes. Then it just tipped over onto its left side, with yours truly plonking down next to it - no slide, just plonk.
I get up as a lady in a VW stops 25 yds behind me. She gets out looking worried and asks if I'm alright, before her legs go from underneath her (ice again, not a faint) and I end up helping her up. "Do you need a hand picking up your bike"? "That would be nice madam, but it weighs about 600lbs and there's no room for you to grab anything, so just be patient and I'll soon have it out of your way". I assumed the GS lift position, check back is straight, tense core muscles (I do pilates you know), head up and wind on the collective pitch and up she slowly came, engine still running quietly. Lady driver gave me a very nervous wave and then slapped her left hand back to the steering wheel as she slid off to find a dry road, knuckles white and eyes fixed dead ahead in petrified stare. Quick check revealed nothing, nix, zip, zero damage. Just some gouges out of the paint on the engine crash bars, a bent screen strut and a loosened handlebar mirror. For some reason those scrapes reminded me of a `Hitlergramme` from Spike Milligans's hilarious book, "Rommel, His Part in My Victory" when Spike reminds Hitler that he started the war because he `kicked the shit out of The Poles`. Hitler replied, "Everybody kicks zer shit out of zer Poles. Zat iss vy zey are zere".
I rode off, feet down, bolt upright and turned out of the frozen waste that was Manor Road and went home. The bars were painted up with Hammerite smooth within the hour and the screen strut was hammered straight and re-fitted before the paint was dry. My fault entirely. I wanted to avoid a traffic queue and took my well known shortcut but didn't do what, hitherto this winter, I've always done i.e. keep to the mains `cos the minors fend for themselves.
A couple of aches in the shoulders and hips this morning but hey, I'm of an age where it hurts just a little longer, but my trusty Hein Gericke kit bore nothing more than a grey, watery muddy patch. Hey ho. Onward and upright. As my hero, the great Mike Hailwood once allegedly said, "The three golden rules of riding a motorcycle are 1. Always know your limitations. 2. Everybody falls off. 3. Everybody falls off".
Today is a beautiful day. I may fire up the Harley.
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