The wanker came right at me with his stinging prick out at 30mph!

Bzzzzzzzzzz……..pfffft.  Ooook.

Howdy folks.  Hope you’re all doing well and all that old chestnut!!

Today was my first day back on the bike following my accident back on Easter Sunday; debris from a previous accident left on the road caused my bike to slip out and into the oncoming lane.  I had to volantarily crash the bike to the left to stop going through the windscreen of an oncoming VW Passat, and it almost worked too!!!  That was until the driver clipped the front of the bike which resulted in me being catapulted down the road at speed on my back.  Thankfully I was wearing my leather jacket, or I could have been bad to the bone, literally.

I’ve spent the last 2 weeks or so rather sombrely, my knee was pretty swollen and grazed up (it’s still slightly swollen now) and I cracked my upper rib which made breathing/laughing/sneezing rather painful.  Add to that my left shoulder blade hurt like a bastard everytime I moved, well you get the picture.  I can’t ever remember being so fearful of pollen just in case I might sneeze!   I do count myself rather lucky to have sustained only the minor injuries that I walked away with.  Yet I immediately felt pretty angry that the roads are in such a disgraceful condition given that we all pay our dues and blah blah woof woof.  Gordon Brown you swine!

Thanks to Kent Countil (my bike was hit in Westerham village on the A25) my bike took a fair bit of damage, the radiator bent back in an amusing shape, the bodywork and lamp units practically exploded along with my windscreen.  So I’ve been fixing all that up with the help of my mate Alan who popped over a couple of times last week to straighten out my front forks and steering, and the ever trusty Ray who has been on emergency 24/7 callout.  Had it not been for these two chaps I’d still be around the garage scratching my head with a spanner, looking at a schematic and wondering how the doobrey goes to the thimgamay.

I managed to source most of my parts through the official Aprilia dealership ‘Inmoto’ which is near where Baldie lives, I’d heartily recommend them; especially because I managed to blag a trade discount out of them for all my stuff.  Hyuk hyuk, how Joe Daki am I?!?  The rest of my bits, well, I bought them second hand off of e bay and they were tarted up by Ray “I can do anything with a wet rag and spraycan” Bush.  See piccies below, the man is a genius.

Big thanks to all my wellwishers, and of course many, many thanks to both Alan and Ray for getting me back on the road. Brrrrrm Brrrrmm Brrrrrrm. Still don’t know what to do with my fluffy dice though?  Anyone got any suggestions?

I had a very brief conversation today with a friend of mine and I thought I’d take this opportunity to blow my own trumpet regarding a reasonably witty reply I came up with off the cuff. Well, you’ve got to sometimes haven’t you?

Friend – “Confidence is an attractive quality, arrogance is not”.
Kev – “I personally live by the moto ‘be damned for what you are, and anyone who doesn’t like it can go grow their own tomatoes’.”
Friend – “Wouldn’t you say that borders on arrogance?”
Kev – “I wouldn’t know, I was never any good at geography”.

Ahem……

Thanks to Dan for getting my bike through it’s M.O.T. Big up.

Blimey, I ache, but what an adventure!

I set off at around 8:30am this morning to meet my friend Simon (work colleague) by the roadside cafe in Coulsdon. The plan: to scoff breakfast before we began heading down to Brighton together; alas, Simon text to say he was sick and not up for going, git. So I finished up my bacon sandwiches and headed off into the unknown (or Godstone) to meet my mate (and boss) Alan and his acquaintance Scott to begin our journey down to Brighton together.

Now, let me be perfectly frank, since passing my CBT earlier in the week I’ve done a few miles locally in and around Croydon/Sutton which was great fun; however the idea of riding 40 odd miles to Brighton and then back again was rather daunting to say the least. In fact, I was cacking myself at the prospect of having to keep up with two very experienced riders AND tackle just about every car/bike/soapbox racer from here to the seafront.

One thing I thought was really cool, was that other bike owners nod their head to you in a mark of respect; I really digged the camaraderie.

Learners like myself are not permitted to travel on the motorways, and although I was initially disappointed by this when I found out, I quickly changed my mind given that I realised you’d miss all the funky ‘A’ and ‘B’ roads that have so much to see compared to going on generic looking motorways. On the way down we passed through some really lovely country towns and villages including one of Alex’s favourites, Lewes, before eventually making it to the coast at around lunchtime. On a bike you feel so amazingly aware of your surroundings that you can’t help feel slightly relaxed when you pass through a gorgeous old town with lots of character after coming out of stressful London and it’s suburbs.

You probably know the sort of places I mean? A quintessential English village, frozen in time, with a token old man passing by the solitary convenience shop, walking his jack russell dog on the way to the pub for some pork scratchings? Had there been Morris dancers poncing about next to a game of cricket on the village green it would have been perfect. In fact, had this been the case then I probably would have impaled the Morris dancers with the spare set of stumps and sat watching the cricket instead of going any further.

Upon entering Brighton I felt a wave of pride as I saw the sea (ding ding ding ding, another pun!); it’s a bizarre thing really because I never expected it to matter in such a way because as far as I’m usually concerned it’s just going from one place to another (I can be a bit black and white like that, no pun intended). But in reality it felt like I’d really accomplished something today having not ended up in a tree like Marc Bolan; if you don’t know who he is, leave my blog now and never return!

The three of us parked up, had lunch (I had fresh cod and chips which was fantastic, cheers Scott!) and after a seafront stroll we headed back to London. It was bloody cold down there though, and even with three layers on including my jacket I felt chilled to the bone. So off we went again……that was until my right throttle housing decided to come lose, and considering that’s the bit you hold on to/make the bike go brrrm brrrm brrrm, probably not the best thing to fail on a bike going around a corner at 60mph. Goodbye testicles!

Luckily, I pulled over by a Kwik fit and the guy there tightened it up for me using an allen key (really nice chap, no charge) and off I went again……for about 2 miles when I broke down again. This time due to a lack of power (eventually found out it was because of a dodgy fuel tank supply tap). Bugger! I thought I was cursed, perhaps I’d been too elated at having made it down there in one piece and now I was now going to have to suffer the humiliation of being recovered back home. Worst still, my roadside policy is through work. Can you imagine the stick I’d have gotten from people in my office!?!?! I work with former army engineers and grease monkeys for gods sakes. I’d have had to give my notice in, no two ways about it. I’d rather french kiss Amy Winehouse after she’s smoked 20 Bensons than be recovered back home.

Luckily, Alan did a bit of a roadside tinkering and after a couple of road tests (and 2 more breakdowns) my bike was broken no more, and, after seeing my companions go their own way, I hammered it all the way home in time for tea and crumpets. My bike had never been better in fact and I’m happy to report it’s happily parked up in my garage whilst I sit here with my feet up and have a blanket over my legs keeping them warm. Rock and roll?

I had to post this picture, it’s at the point I’d taken my crash helmet off and was shaking my hair which hasn’t been cut for a month. Just in case you wanted to see firsthand the Anglo-Indian hair curse that I have to carry. Now, where’s the rum gone?