Custom chopper
Like many people when I find that I am contented and relaxed I go shopping. Not only does the experience shatter me and destroy whatever fledgling love for mankind I may have developed, I also end up buying things that go wrong or harm me.
I'm bitter because the motorbike I bought that should have 5 gears has only 4. This is contrary to the manufacturer's product information though the place I bought it insists that "it must be some kinda import, innit?". I tell you they will rue the day I walked into that showroom. I'm going to spend another afternoon taking the thing apart to prove that it does have a fifth gear but it just doesn't work.
I decided to get a motorcycle licence before I go away again. I could ride the thing to and from work, get practice, and hopefully take my test before I go to, say, India and get the Enfield that I promised myself. So far it's been okay and the absence of a fifth gear is not so bad, though it does make the machine impractical for going outside London and down the A3. At the moment I'm getting out-dragged by pin-up sissies on their Vespas which is most humiliating so on a fast road I'd be a hazard.
So far riding a bike has been interesting. I started in earnest doing my CBT which is compulsory in the UK. My instructor at the time had some complaints about me being nervous (well, YOU try riding an unfamiliar bike for the first time though Borough and Vauxhall on a busy Saturday afternoon and playing with the "big traffic") and a little slow off the lights. That final point was mainly because I had not ridden a motorbike for years and the feeling of speed was overwhelming, so when I got overtaken by a bendy-bus I did not think that unusual. The white van behind me got the hump though so we had to stop for a cup of tea. The experience did wonders and the lessons I learned there I think I learned well.
Learning in London seems to be a bad idea as you can pick up some nasty habits, especially when filtering at traffic queues. There is nothing unusual about diving between lanes and nipping into gaps; things that you would fail a test for. Car drivers almost seem to expect it and always make room. Even if there's no room one of those tosser couriers will hurtle though with inches to spare either side and career off into the horizon. They're a bunch of wankers as far as I can see anyway, couriers. They never, ever stop.
I might take my test in Aldershot, it would probably be easier. Then when I pass I can buy a nice Triumph Bonneville.
I'm bitter because the motorbike I bought that should have 5 gears has only 4. This is contrary to the manufacturer's product information though the place I bought it insists that "it must be some kinda import, innit?". I tell you they will rue the day I walked into that showroom. I'm going to spend another afternoon taking the thing apart to prove that it does have a fifth gear but it just doesn't work.
I decided to get a motorcycle licence before I go away again. I could ride the thing to and from work, get practice, and hopefully take my test before I go to, say, India and get the Enfield that I promised myself. So far it's been okay and the absence of a fifth gear is not so bad, though it does make the machine impractical for going outside London and down the A3. At the moment I'm getting out-dragged by pin-up sissies on their Vespas which is most humiliating so on a fast road I'd be a hazard.
So far riding a bike has been interesting. I started in earnest doing my CBT which is compulsory in the UK. My instructor at the time had some complaints about me being nervous (well, YOU try riding an unfamiliar bike for the first time though Borough and Vauxhall on a busy Saturday afternoon and playing with the "big traffic") and a little slow off the lights. That final point was mainly because I had not ridden a motorbike for years and the feeling of speed was overwhelming, so when I got overtaken by a bendy-bus I did not think that unusual. The white van behind me got the hump though so we had to stop for a cup of tea. The experience did wonders and the lessons I learned there I think I learned well.
Learning in London seems to be a bad idea as you can pick up some nasty habits, especially when filtering at traffic queues. There is nothing unusual about diving between lanes and nipping into gaps; things that you would fail a test for. Car drivers almost seem to expect it and always make room. Even if there's no room one of those tosser couriers will hurtle though with inches to spare either side and career off into the horizon. They're a bunch of wankers as far as I can see anyway, couriers. They never, ever stop.
I might take my test in Aldershot, it would probably be easier. Then when I pass I can buy a nice Triumph Bonneville.