Circus 6

I’ll ask Dave Scott in the week if you like..??

I wish this was in it but I doubt it will be.
It goes something like this–and I read this somewhere recollected by the young man (well he was young at the time)–I think he was a navigator.
“We had three missions to Germany in one week. At the end of the week in our hut, there were only two of us left. We were issued weekend passes to London. I was eighteen years old–what do you think I planned on doing..??? We went to a basement club somewhere full of interesting women. We hadn’t been in there five minutes when a bomb landed close by in the street and the lights went out. Minutes later a Policeman came to top of the stairs with a flash-light (torch) and said: ‘Are there any pregnant women here?’ A broad cockney woman’s voice responded with: ‘Give ’em a f**king chance, they’ve only just got here..!'” Even the copper laughed apparently.

Andy, Since you have been away, a new word has appeared on the Forum…FRACKING..substituted one “F” with that “F” :highly_amused:
Jim.
Lincoln .7

Well Jim. Fracking is about to start in Mid Beds. My workshop is on top of a hill. My mate Roger lives at the bottom of the same hill. When he was looking at my VF1100 rebuild recently he expressed the idea that it was monster. ‘Yes’:said I: ‘it is, it’s meant to be, and when I fit the exhaust system I bought from the good ol’ US of A for it, it’ll be more so. In fact you’ll be able to hear me running it indoors at your house. Well not so much hear it as feel it through the soles of your feet. Jan (his wife) will say; “Are they fracking around here?”‘ Since then each phone call starts with ‘Are you fracking yet?’.

Dave, you do the place a great service–many thanks.
The Aurora is actually older than any of the aeroplanes being a product from 1904 and unique.

Well I changed my mind a few years ago.
Prior to that I was pretty much pro-biker in all things and anti car etc.
Then one August bank holiday a friend (known as big Kev) and I decided to nip down to Brighton for the annual Ace Cafe Brighton run. We were warned what it would be like, but being as we were awkward by disposition (and quite experienced too) we decided to go anyway.
We always meet in a lay-by on the A5 near Hockcliffe, Herts, and I arrived a bit early and waited in the sunshine. A few minutes later another group pulled in. Not youngsters but maybe a bit younger than me. They were riding big sports bikes and in my life, I’ve never quite seen such a display. They were lead by a self appointed alpha male who treated them all like his inferiors and was a w*nker of the highest magnitude–and had he addressed me in similar manner he’d have been told to simply ‘f**k right off’. Shouting his mouth off about what they going to do and how, and at speed. They were collectively so pumped up that they were already out of control. I even wondered if one or two of them had been at the ‘Columbian marching powder’ because they were that high–but I hope it was the narcotic of adrenaline. While they wandered off into the adjacent garage for fuel and supplies, I struck up a conversation with one of them. He was a nice Indian lad (not that race matters) and he looked nervous. I told him he did look nervous and he actually confessed that he was afraid. Afraid of the leader it seemed, but more afraid of the way they rode and behaved. I told him:- Put your f*cking helmet on, hit the start button and either ride home now or go on your own. He was reluctant to do either, and eventually left with them among much noise and haste.
Big Kev eventually turned up, slightly late as ever, and he and I set off. We got to Brighton to find it filled with the biggest bunch of f*cktards, wannabees and hangers on you could imagine, plus loads more like our little A5 group.
When we left Brighton, we witnessed the result of the most nasty RTA I’ve ever seen, and it turned my blood to ice–and I drove the coroners van for two years remember, so I’ve seen a bit of death. Big Kev and I carefully threaded our way through the carnage on our bikes and rode grimly for home. That day changed my attitudes to be honest. It was like a w*nkers charter and I wanted no part of it.
It may not suit everyone but I love motorcycling and bikes, but my love grew out of the need of a young apprentice to get to work, who then thought weekends out and holidays on two wheels were a hoot and then found a love in the nuts and bolts of what made then work. What I witnessed that day had no linkage with that as far as I could see. There were thousands there that day but I wouldn’t have trusted the majority to sit the correct way on a toilet seat. If that’s their idea of a hobby, then they can stick it.

I’ve ridden since I was a teenager.
Call me anti-social but I prefer to ride alone. I ride out with Suz on her Thundercat sometimes, but she’s a safer biker than I am. I tend towards thinking that possession of motorcycle license means just that–it doesn’t mean the owner necessarily has a the sense to wipe their own **** and I don’t enjoy having some semi-stranger riding close in beside me who I have no clue to his abilities. Recently I was asked by someone what the collective noun for a group of motorcycles was–I replied a ‘w*nkstain’. Yes a w*nkstain of bikers–sadly these days, it fits the bill in way too many cases. Like Rick on here, had I have been in the 4X4 , I’d have gotten the lot of them–they wouldn’t have come after me unless they were running. Ride alone, mind your own business, don’t join clubs etc etc.

Thanks chaps.
We had a very quiet day. We took the dog for a walk this afternoon and did a bit of blackberry picking. Old Warden tomorrow.
Still a bit screwy to be honest–more a case of dizziness, but after a particularly bad spell a couple of weeks ago when the mind-bending chemicals the medical trade were feeding me went down the lavatory in temper, I now feel a lot better.
Even had a little trip to the Somme last weekend to pay my respects and visit some old friends.
Can’t quite summon up the wherewithal to enter the fray here yet, but i’ll be back soon.
Andy.