I had a what is technically termed ‘a shit shift’. Nothing really went wrong, but it was less fun than standing with your feet in a bucket of camel dung while people throw drawing pins (thumb tacks) at you.
And I came out and I could feel as I got on my bike the dark omen of the crap ride. I was in a bad mood, my bike was stood (irritatingly) in the patch of oil (it generated yesteday as the sun expanded the two stroke in the very full two-stroke tank) and I just knew, gonna be no fun.
Pulled out and got stuck behind (oddly enough) a HumVee (or however it’s spelt) which appeared to be capable of a staggering 25 mph on Bath’s twisty little backroads – and I started to mutter darkly.
The whole ride was a melange of crap or dull.
And then it happened.
Some tosser in an unlabeled silver sports car with prestige plates (Jon [+3 numbers]) cut me up, and then shot past to the roundabout… the trafficlight controlled roundabout. I prayed. My prayers were answered, the lights were red. He might have been a shit driver, but he wasn’t out-right stupid, so he stopped. I filtered. We shared the white line space.
He took off, from the left lane (of 4) he swerved across the traffic to the right lane (of 4), over took a car at the lights on the roundabout and then swerved back to the left lane to shoot up the 2+ lane of the next stretch of dual carriage way.
I prayed again. please let the lights be red.
And as I rounded the corner I punched the air, they were red, his brake lights came on and he stopped…. At this junction there’s a bus/bike/taxi lane, so I didn’t even have to filter and I pulled up next to him. My battered, dented, faded, multicoloured MZ unevenly ring-ting-tinging next to his 100k (?) sports car. I prayed again, I’ve never been good at fast pull aways when I’ve been trying, but I needed this one to be perfect. I didn’t want to wheelie, I wanted it to be controlled and leave him in that beautiful cloud of 2 stroke blue.
The lights changed, and I shot off like a monkey sitting on a fire, and fuck me backwards if I didn’t leave him in the dirt. Of course, he shot past after 50mph, performing another similar manouver to before at the next roundabout… but just to make life that bit more beautiful, the lights changed and he was stuck at them, behind a car, and I filtered my way to the front.
Oh, the joy of pootling at 45mph in a 50mph zone with a tosser in a sports car desparate to pass you. Having overtaken the car I was not-really-trying-to overtake he again shot past, getting stopped at the next set of lights, where he turned off left. And I must admit, I punched the air again as I pulled up level on my ‘zed.
I love my bike. I even gave it a hug tonight, it’s made me feel that much less pissed off.
