...the grass is riz,
I wonder where my battery power is?
The sound of spring in the Highwaylass household isn’t the sound of birdsong, thawing mountain rills or gentle breezes from the south. It’s the sound of a starter motor not turning, closely followed by gentle swearing and the unwrapping of jump leads.
This year we have gone one better than normal and had to get the jump leads out at the end of the trip as well as the beginning to get the bike back in the garage – either my charging circuit has failed or the battery was even flatter than last Tuesday’s pancakes. Fortunately I have a long-suffering and Patient Partner who, now that Stargate SG-1 has finished, has nothing better to do on Sunday afternoons than track me down and jump-start me (arf arf!).
I’ve been getting itchy wrists for the past few weekends - I’m not a fair weather biker but the fact that this was my first ride this year rather argues against me :( - and it was great to get out on the road even if it was just the A1 and the North Circular.
Before I was diverted by the total failure of the battery to even illuminate the idiot lights at the Shell garage, I promised myself that I would name and shame today’s example of egregious motoring behaviour:-
- You in the blue Toyota at the traffic lights at the North Circular – just because your car is called a Picnic does not make it OK to throw your banana skin and Walker’s Crisp packet out of the window. Yes, S503BKN, I’m talking about you.
You’re lucky - if it had been a few months later in the riding season I would have been able to pick them up from the roadside and throw them back into your window, you filthy git. You should be ashamed of yourself.