So, I looked in the tank on the ‘zed before setting off from work. Meh, I thought, just about enough to get me home and back to the petrol station on the way tomorrow. I didn’t count on the massive headwind and the boxes I’d got strapped to the back of the bike…
…about 7 miles from home (on the motorway) the bike died – and I flipped to where I think ‘Reserve’ is. Only it’s not, because it’s a new fuel tap – and it turns out I’ve been using Reserve the whole time. Cue quick dash for the hard-shoulder. Thankfully, though the old trick of tipping the bike right over on it’s side to get the dregs of the fuel over the hump in the tank worked like a dream. I had to do it twice, but she had enough fuel to get me to the petrol station 2 miles away – a nice friendly Highway Office in tow…
I celebrated by stamping the footpeg back into roughly the right position and telling her she’s an ace bike. I might even check the chain tension on Saturday. Hell, I might *even* give her a wash.
