Bastard

Friday, hottest day of the year, Bob the Dog walked early doors, home before seven in the am and it’s already twenty-two degrees, quick shower and warm up the FTR as I sort out my riding gear. Where to go? The Rollright Stones beckon, the ancient stone circle bordering Warwickshire and Oxfordshire, a 120 mile ride, not been here for around ten years, Chuck a sandwich and bottle of water in my bag and off we bloody well trot, it’s good to be riding at this time in the morning, too late to miss the work traffic/school run/ granny shopping trip, still warm though even though I’ve unzipped my jacket liner, I’m wearing Daneise armoured jeans and my ubiquitous greasy Doc Marten  boots. Out through rural Leicester, past Mallory and into the Home of Triumph, {or ‘Inckley as we know it] on to the A5, [how many times have I travelled this road? Memories of the Hells Angels Kent Custom Bike Show and British GP races at Silverstone] I stop to re-fuel and grab a can of cold coffee before turning onto the Fosse Way and head south. As I walk back towards the bike I can see something glinting in the full sunshine, closer inspection reveals a Pozidrive screw firmly imbedded in my rear tyre. Deep fucking joy. It had all been going so swimmingly until this point.

I walked away and sat in the shade of the only tree for miles, chugging my ice cold coffee and laughed. It’s a beautiful day, sunshine beating down and I’m riding a great bike, something as inconvenient as a puncture shouldn’t ruin it. 

Finishing my caffeine fix I return to the bike and push my fingers into the still warm compound, it’s still firm, I fish out my knife and carefully work the blade under the head of the screw until there’s enough to grasp between my thumb and forefinger and gently prise it out. PPPPSSSHHHH! The tell tale sound of air escaping from a tyre. YOU BASTARD! I’d hoped hope against hope that I’d collected a pop rivet or short screw, no such luck. The full Bangladesh, English Breakfast, All you can eat, full on two inch, [or 50mm if you are metric] twin taper screw. 

I pushed it straight back into the tyre and decided to just ride as far home as I could without resorting to calling the very nice man, the very, very nice man. 

Ten minutes into my ride home, telling myself to behave and take it steady I’m still riding like a twat and continued to do so until I got home. Bike up on the paddock stand and I work the trusty blade under the screw head, flat within seconds. Today was a good day.......