The bike hasn't always been called The Frog. I had to have the clutch completely replaced as the old one kept slipping. This is a little tale of what happened when I got the bike back. (Must be read in a Clint Eastwood voice through gritted teeth for best effect).

Went to Finns and met one of the Mechs outside.

"What bike yer got?" he asked in an off-beat casual manner, attempting to be as cool as a cucumber.

"850" says I, working on the basis that the less words actually said the cooler I would look. Adopting the Marlon Brando stance of legs wide and head slightly tilted to the ground, I enquired as to the health of my steed.

"Good?" says I.

"Well, I think yer head gasket is leaking." the mech says, squinting at my silouetted figure.

This man had gone too far. Ladies and gentlemen, time for the toys out of the pram sketch.

"Oh I don't believe it!!! I just had the damn thing replaced and it's so expensive to get it sorted and I think I want my mummy."

Just to emphasise the point, I stamped my foot like Princess Leia from Star Wars having a tantrum. I could see he was impressed. He humbly went about his business of putting out the bikes. He reached towards the mighty steed but just before he reached the handle bars I gave him a warning.

"Heavy!" I said

"Yeah." said the mech and wizzed the bike about like it was two hundred and fifty kilos of feathers. I checked out the supposed leakage but it turned out to be s**t that had come out of the exhaust pipes. No big deal there.

I had seen enough. I went inside to see the main man about the wallet damage.

I was now so cool I didn't even need to say a single goddamn word. I nodded at the guy behind the desk. I guess he went to the same school of minimalism. He slowly looked up from his book.

"£260" he said.

Just how he managed to say the pound sign is not something I'm prepared to talk about. I counted out the dough and then he made his mistake.

"You paid a deposit on this lot. Got yer receipt?"

I checked my wallet.

"Oh I don't believe it!!! I left the bloody thing at home and I think I want my mummy."

He was obviously impressed at my show of rage so I stamped my foot again just because I can.

The deal was made. Outside I mounted the steed and started her up. At first she sounded like an asthmatic being repeatedly kicked in the nuts. I let go of the choke and she purred like a kitten. The new pipes sounded hot, but I wasn't stupid enough to touch them with my lips. I wasn't born yesterday.

I slowly pulled back the clutch, marvelling at its smooth action. I
clicked in the gears as smooth as lard soaked underpants. I then made my first mistake. Adopting my usual riding style, I dumped the clutch and hit the revs. Lucky for me I had a large space in front of me. The bike took off like a bat out of hell. Casually, I applied clutch and brake, managing to halt the beast's stride without loss of form and waited until my pants had dried.

With the new bite point in mind, I looked back at Finns.

"I might be back." I said through gritted teeth.

... So now I can leap through the traffic, hence the name.