festival of a 1000 bikes 2013 part four

half past eight and i'm aware of a stirring in the short's department, calm down, it's my phone ringing, i don't recognise the number but i  answer it anyway, big mistake, 'hello, it's choice van rental, you should have had the van back at 0800hrs this morning, i've got a customer waiting for it....' fucking hell, can anything else go wrong today? i try and explain the situation, i'm in the race paddock at mallory park,, there's race bikes starting up all around me, i can only make out fractions of the conversation by standing in the back of the van, finger in ear, trying to filter out the cacophony of the bikes, there's no-way we are going to be out of here before 1900hr's at least, someone's made a major fuck-up here, the bloke on the end of the phone leaves me with the kick in the gonad's i need at this time, 'you know you haven't got any insurance on the van after 1200hr's today don't you? after that you are driving illegally' fuck, fuck fuckking fuck, my blood pressure increases to dangerous levels, sweary mick chip's in 'are we having a brew or what youth? i'm as dry as a nun's...' you know, it's times like this when i really should be accepting old age gracefully, i don't need this shit, fucking motorcycles, i'm going to take up gardening or fishing or watercolour painting, something more relaxing, anything but fucking motorbikes.................