| Oh yes... big boys toys..... I've bought a Motor Bike (or as Americans say a "Motor sickle" (do they really talk like that???). Let me bring you up to date with a bit of history first. I've been saying I would get another motor bike for ages.... well, for at least 2 years or so anyway. The last bike I had (about 15 years ago), I ended up with a broken wrist from. I was behind the third car at a set of traffic lights on Victoria Road, minding my own business, and in the background I could hear the "Weeeeee....Wahhhh... Weeeee... Wahhhhh...." of a police siren. At that moment the lights turned to green, and everybody started to pull away. I was looking somewhere else (not where I should have been, obviously), when the car right at the front (woman driver) woke up and heard the siren. The emergency vehicle was nowhere near us, but she decided to jam her brakes on anyway. The other two cars just managed to stop, and Regan (God bless his cotton socks) kept going. CRUNNNNCH.... I was only going about 6 kilometers an hour, and the bike stopped dead. The forces of Inertia then came into effect, and though the bike stopped, I kept going!! I was on a 250cc Yamaha dirt/road bike, and I slid up the petrol tank, where soft, delicate. squishy parts (namely my goolies), made positive, and severe contact, with hard chrome shiney parts (namely the petrol filler cap)!!! At the same time, because I was accelerating my wrist was bent downwards. When the handle bars came to a stop, my wrist also carried on and went crack. Oooo the pain...... The bike dropped to the floor from between my legs, and I was bent double feet apart but knees together, staggering around in the middle of the road, clutching said gooley's in agony. I finally decided to get out of the traffic onto the grass verge. The guy in the car that I had hit, picked my bike up, and looked on in great sympathy The look on his face told me he obviously knew what it felt like. He jumped in his car and pulled round the corner to let the traffic pass. By that time the tears had stopped flowing and I could actually talk again. I offered to repair the minor scratch on his bumper and swap drivers details. He didn't want to know. I insisted, and still he insisted "No. as long as I was ok". He was very persistant about the "NO", and was walking backwards towards his car while shaking his head. It suddenly dawned on me (Derrrr....), that either the car was stolen, or he was banned from driving or something. Seeing as I was in the wrong, and had hit him, who was I to argue? I gave him the best happy smile I could muster in the circumstances and bade him a 'fare-the-well'. I managed to ride home, whereupon no amount of ice would stop my wrist blowing up like a balloon, and turning purple. I realised that it was fractured, as I had done the other one when I was younger (much) playing Volley ball. Time to go to the hospital me thinks. Off we trot, and book in to emergency. When I told them what had happened, they said they had to take some blood by law for the police. Not a problem says I knowing I hadn't been drinking. So they take about three gallons of blood. ...... well OK, .....maybe not three gallons, but Jesus, it seemed like it. It was lots anyway, because together with the pain I started to go light headed. Just then the X-ray guy calls me in, and goes off on this tirade about how busy he is, underpaid, overworked, cant keep up, what do they expect etc, etc, etc. He starts throwing my arm about all over the place for different pictures, while whinging, carrying on, and talking to himself. I told him to be bloody careful, but what with the pain and lack of gallons of blood I promptly pass out. I finally wake up on a bed somewhere, with about five concerned faces looking down at me, and they are feeding me sweet tea, and fussing like buggery. A plaster cast later, and I'm on my way home. You'd think that would be the end of it wouldn't you? but no way!!! About two weeks later, first thing in the morning, there's a "bang" "bang" "bang" on the front door. I look out the upstairs window to see two coppers there (an older one and a young one). I go down and answer the door, and the younger one say's..... "Are you Regan XXXXX?". "Yes" I say smiling. "Were you involved in a motor vehicle (he said Veee-hickle) accident on such and such a date?" "Yes" I say holding up my damaged wing in plaster proudly. Then he says "did you report it?" "No" I says, still smiling. Then he gets all serious and says "It is an offence to not report an accident to police and you will charged with this offence" I thought for a second, smiled, and said "OK, if you do that, I'll lie" He looks at me incredulously and says "What?" I said, "If you take me to court I'll lie" He's going red in the face now and nearly blubbering... I said "Look, the guy that I hit obviously had no license, or he had stolen the car. Either way I was in the wrong, so I don't care. If you take me to court I'll say it never happened, and that I just fell off the bike on my own" I'm smiling at this guy and he's really starting to fume. The older copper though is killing himself laughing. He (the older copper) finally chimes in with "He's right there's nothing we can do about it, we have no witnesses and pulls the younger cop away. So that was the end of my high profile criminal career. It was also the end of my motor biking for a while. Stella said that I was getting a bit old to be zooming around on two wheels so I sold it. Ahhhhhhhaaaaa.......... Until now that is!!!! I finally plumped up and bought another one a little while ago. IT'S BIG..... IT'S BLACK.... AND IT THROBS BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS!!!! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT HUH??? Hahahahah.... No its not a Harley Davidson. Firstly, they are very expensive. Secondly, they are not all that reliable (mechanically). and thirdly, they are the first bike to get knocked off. Considering we don't insure our vehicles, except for damage to someone else's, I'd be paranoid every time I left it at the side of the road if it was a Harley. There are a group of motor sickles called cruisers. These look like a Harley and are made by all the big Jap makers. They were a clone of them at first, and were frowned upon as a 'Harley wanna-be's'. Now however, they are so popular they have their own niche, and are quite acceptable. You can call it a "Japley" if you want, a Japanese Harley!! I don't mind. Anyway, I bought a Yamaha 1100cc V-star cruiser. Its just a year old, all black as you can see by the pics. It goes really well with heaps of power for two people, but because of the upright sitting position is a nightmare at speed (as are all the cruisers, Harley's included). I'm not a speed freak anyway, I just want to poodle along and take in the sights. Stella absolutely loves it (Grrrrrrrr.....) and I can't get her off the bloody thing. I only finally managed to go for a ride on my own last week. This was after a lot of whinging, complaining, holding my breath, and sticking my bottom lip out and crying. |
| MY NEW BIKE AUGUST 2003 |
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