Lovely day

I'm in my leathers, silk underwear and all - it's a bright,
sunny day, and I'm going for a ride. This is the part
where I put my helmet on, pull on the lighweight gloves,
hitch up my crotch and stride purposefully over to the
Zip 50 moped for the short trip to the lock-up. It never
fails. No sooner do I hit the road in a cloud of smoke
hunched up on the scoot flat out at thirty looking like an
annoyed buzzard than someone I know will drive past
with the surely that's not... look on their face. Well, ***
them. What I most fear is that I get to the roundabout,
still flat out, hanging off hard like I'm leading the pack at
Brands, as you do, and one of the boys will appear in
my mirrors, recognize me, pull alongside, lie down on the
tank and slowly overtake, giving me the Barry Sheene
before taking off up the by-pass wagging his fat arse. I'm
this close to calling a cab.


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