Now we had an event near where I live over the weekend and all the residents were warned of gridlock as if from the old testament if we dared to venture outside of parish bounds. Fair enough. It's a lovely place to be when the sun's out anyway, so I had no worries. Two important rugby matches to watch, friends coming around to reduce the world sobriety shortage. I was happy with the situation. I did, however have to take the bike for MOT. Only a five minute ride to the main dealers, but on the dreaded festival route, so what to do..? Answer. Be there when they opened, leave it and my leathers with them and walk back along the canal in glorious sunshine to the village. No, says Mrs kpone, I'm going to my fat losers group in the village hall first thing. I'll take the car, then come and collect you. That early, we'll still beat the crowd. Okay then. First thing, I'm off. Not a car in sight on the village bypass. Slight road rage at a bus, an empty bus, that insisted on using both lanes of the road, but otherwise, a five minute run. When I get there, as always, the staff are all courteous and smiley, asking how I am and what was my ride like (short), I split my key ring, hand them over and wait for Mrs kpone to finish her class and pick me up. Wandering around, I overhear a chap, much older than me by the looks, booking out a bike for a test ride. With an accent thick and broad even by our standards, he's explaining, in minute detail, the route he has planned. "Thought I'd run 'im out to Dunsford, on the main road, then tek 'im up on the moor proper 'n run out to Moreton'ampstead. I ken drop down through Bovey then, see, so's I ken try 'im out on the A38 on the way back 'en let'n stretch ee's legs a bit." "Yes sir, that sounds perfect. Could you just sign here and here." "So what about power then?" "I'm sorry sir..?" "What about power on them 'ills on the moor. Will us 'ev to worry about power?" "No sir. It's all about the engine sir. Just roll on the throttle and you'll be fine." "Tha's alright then. Only the's no point evin'in round yer if 'in in't got the power fer them hill around the moor." How sweet, I thought. Old boy not aware, as yet of just how bikes have improved since the days of the Bantam. I wandered around a bit more then though 'coffee!' and strolled back to the showroom towards the cafe, where I saw the salesman going through the control set up with the aforementioned geezer while blipping the throttle through the huge Yoshimuras of a quite seriously tricked out Hayabusa. ..."So what about power then?... Oh my, I thought. Just roll on the throttle, dad, and you'll be fine... So I ordered my coffee among the three other patrons of the cafe and note one member of staff for each of us. I order an espresso to be told there would be a bit of a wait as the orders were building up... 15 minutes later, no coffee, but a phone call from Mrs kpone to say she's waiting in the car park, and where the hell am I... So I explain, and she comes stomping around the the corner, all pink and sweaty in indignation and lycra. More waiting follows (Mrs K slowly seething while monitoring her fitbit). Eventually I spy among the three other orders, a single espresso cup appear at the counter, so I reach over, ask if it's mine, then neck it whilst standing there. At last I can leave. We jump in the car and plunge into the, now building festival traffic, but make it home in about fifteen minutes. Not too bad, and Mrs kpone's mood has lifted radically. It's only when I take out my key to unlock the door of the house and see an alarm fob and a Honda wing on the key ring...
That would be a cracking title for a book! It's been quite a while since a man made me burst out laughing in bed in the morning Im looking forward to the next chapter
