Hey Ho, Let's Go

So, 32 years after my last visit to the Island, (I know I said 31 the other day but I've never been any good at math's, 1981, the year of the infamous Honda 'black protest', a world wide audience watch the marriage of Lady Di and Prince Charles, the Toxteth riots, Buck's Fizz 'Making Your Mind Up' hits number one, Arthur Scargill is President elect of the National Union of Mine Workers and a twenty-two year old Timmy Loveless drops his Suzuki GS 1000 Suzuki on gravel on the way to work one morning a week before the T.T and a fortnight after almost writing off his G.S 750 whilst racing on the roads with Vinny Adams near Foremark Reservoir, a typical left hander accident, tipping it in, oh fuck, too fast, pegs grinding, exhaust down, Karl (Vinny's brother riding pillion with me bails out and a catch sight of him disappearing into the ditch on the right hand side of the road just before I join him along with 500lbs of motorcycle which hit's me squarely in the back before somersaulting out of the ditch, over Karl and me and end-overing into the field beyond, Deep Joy, anyway, the Ducati gets the nod over the Sporty for the simple facts, that I'm away at 0400 hrs, it doesn't get light until 0558 hours and I need decent lights, I'm riding part of the way on the infamous M6 motorway, probably the busiest motorway in Northern Britain so indicators are good and the clincher is the fact that the Ducati has a big tank and the Sporty has a very, very small tank meaning I'd have had to stop and find fuel every 50 miles, or three times on the journey to Liverpool, don't get me wrong, if I'm meandering around the countryside stopping for fuel isn't a problem, when you only have a couple of hours to make a ferry it is, so there it is, magnetic tank bag on and ready to go, that's all folk's, no post's for a week, take care everyone, see you on the other side..........

Location:chained tothe mirror and the razor blade, (what's the story, morning glory)