Knights in shining armour! (Not to be confused with amour, or whatever the French for love is) riding Robert into town, I decided, for once, to park him at the bottom of the main street.right in the place I would normally store him, sat a big red bandit too! This one only a baby compared to Bob. It was only 17 where Bob is a manly 19 year old. With dominator lights and a fly screen (I need one if it stops my head being ripped from my shoulders) it looked kind of cool. Except for the fact the lights where still on. I tried to turn them off but the Fool had left them on as he turned off his engine (a fact I was made aware of when he came back…. Not once, but twice that day) so off on my adventures with no worries)
A cup of coffee with me mate Paul and a sit down watching the locals, one particular chap looking for all intense and purposes like a bloody ‘Diddy Man’ all he was missing was Mr Dod. He was diminutive in stature, his rather over large coat dwarfing his actual size. Brown and white ‘Spat’ shoes adding to the pattern of pre seventies pedestrianism,but his crowning glory was his HUGE green hat, looking like an upturned green flowerpot (all he needed was a flower sticking out the top). Individually the same again as about an hour later, his younger doppelgänger bumped into me further up the road!!! Special folk indeed, but then again, the weather is getting warmer and the hibernating strangeness of the southwest is starting to reappear.
Back to the bike then. All thoughts of taking Bob further into town (just to save my legs mind) were vanquished when I got back to him and found the owner of the dead red bandit looking despondent. (This is when I was regaled by the stupidity of the imbecile for doing this twice in the one day) as he fumbled for his phone, I decided that action was the best course to take. Wandering up to taxi drivers to see if anyone had a set of ‘Jump’ leads I managed to find a guy that recognised me. So in a friendly manner, out of his boot emerged a fresh set of red and blacks. Now me being a professional bloody mechanical (AND) electrical (I know it’s the other way round, but for the sake of the story, let it be) engineer, I had a little inside knowledge of how to do this……over thirty years of inside knowledge actually. But this chap (who had ran his battery down twice today, remember) proceeded to tell me what to do. After two attempts to start his bike, it finally dawned on him to put the cables on the right way. Bloody hell if that didn’t help! So with his bandit back in the land of the living. I gave the leads back to a random taxi guy (mine had been called away on a job) and went for another coffee.
A few bits of shopping were required (a bottle of Jack Daniels as I had troffed the last bottle) so into Morrisons car park I rode. The clouds had decided they wanted to be puddles, so I got wet, but as I parked, I noticed a poor RAC rescue dude even wetter. He was looking wistfully at a beautiful Bentley, in a disabled parking space, not working,…..broken. I chuckled as the guy in the Bentley stood next to the rescue guy dressed in chinos and shirt. Not really the best clobber for a rainy Friday. All assumptions of a lovely drive in his lively car dashed on the rocks of disrepair. So the weather affects all manner of vehicular activity. As I came out form my shop, still giggling, Bob refused to start……. Not worrying, I took up his seat, wiggled a few wires and lo and behold, he buzzed into life. (Fuck knows what I did, but it worked). Time to get back to dryness, a curry a game of snooker and a few drinks!