A God Damn Bad Day!!!!!!
Created | Updated Jul 6, 2004
It was a fine morning when I awoke. The sun was shining through the landing window and the birds had congregated on the tree outside. I got up out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, stubbing my little toe on the way. Cursing, I got to the sink and began to fill it with water. I looked up from the sink and saw my reflection in the mirror. <yikes> God I looked bad. Maybe it was the <ale> I had the night before, or just the fact that I was absolutely knackered!! <yawn> Finally, the sink filled with water and I began to have my wash. I then got that usual irritating pain in one of my eyes, my left I think. Eyes tightly shut I reached out for the <towel>. No <towel> there. Damn!! I hate that. Still squinting I felt my way to the airing cupboard, grabbed a <towel> and began to rub my eyes completely forgetting that I still had mascara on from the night before……… well you can imagine the mess left on the <towel>.
I could hear the <dog> downstairs doing his usual early morning wake up call. Sounded more like a <cat> in labour from the high pitched squeals he was making. I went back into the bedroom and got dressed. The huge lump in the middle of the bed moved and began to snort like a pig in mud. It was alright for some. No work for him today so I had to walk the <dog>. I hate mornings so walking a demented animal before I had chance to wake up properly wasn’t a good prospect.
I quickly got dressed and made my way down stairs. Murray (the <dog>) was jumping furiously at the gate between the kitchen and the living room. Shoving him out the way, I donned my coat and unlocked the front door. I reached for the lead only to be attacked by Murray in his excitement at going out. I was thrown against the front door and banged my head. <headhurts> I should have gone back to bed there and then.
I finally managed to get the lead on Murray and once I opened the door I was dragged outside like a slave wearing chains. <grr> He was going so fast I had no choice but to run. This was going to be a very quick walk. I raced round the corner and felt the usual squelch underneath my right foot. Dog poo. <steam> That did it for me. I shouted at Murray and demanded he do his business. He did, but I think it was out of pure fright rather than the actual need to go. I cleaned it up and threw it away in the dog poo bin. I then marched back to the house with <dog> in tow.
Once back at the house I cleaned my shoe, trying not the vomit <ill> what little contents I still had in my stomach. I fed Murray and went upstairs to wash my hands and get changed into my bike leathers. The lump in the middle of the bed made more movements and the snorting sounds were rising to a crescendo!! I grabbed my gear and went back downstairs. I grabbed my keys and my bike bag and got outside as quickly as I could.
I pulled the cover of my bike and started her up. She was an old S reg XS250 (Yamaha). Bright red I would have imagined her colour when she was first made, but now she was a sort of dull attempt and being red. I quickly got my gear on and sat on the bike. Slowly I backed down the driveway making sure not to run over next doors grass or hit the car. Once on the road I straightened up. I did my usual pre-ride checks. You know, checking your mirrors and stuff. Except I only had one mirror left. The other got damaged when I had to use the kick start after the electric start failed me. I always dropped the bike when I had to kick start it. It usually had this horrible reaction of kicking back at me and making me lose my balance. <wah>
Satisfied, I pulled away and began the 8 mile journey to work. It was an incident free ride. I joined the M56 heading towards Chester. I dodged through traffic and roared past lorries. (Well not so much roared as squeaked). I took the slip road to the M53, Chester. Then I got blinded by the sun. I realised I had forgotten my sun glasses. My eyes began to water <cry> but I was going to have to grin and bear it.
I decided to carry on after the end of the motor way along the A55 to the Vicars Cross roundabout. It would be easier getting into work going that way. I continued to bomb along (well doing 50 any way. Getting more out of the bike was quite difficult!!)<winkeye> After a few miles, my turning came up, I indicated and pulled into the slip road positioning myself to take the right hand lane. There was a van in front of me, a little bigger than a transit van. I hated not being able to see in front of me! I began to slow down and started to touch my back brakes.
With horror, I realised I wasn’t slowing down quickly enough. <yikes> I grabbed my front brake and gritted my teeth. The van got closer and closer and then……thud. I hit it. It was only a gentle one, but enough for me to stall my bike. I tried to start it using the electric start. No joy. Oh God. That meant a kick start. So I did it. I pushed down as hard as I could with my right foot and nearly got thrown from the bike as it lurched back at me. I looked up at the van and realised that if I could stay right behind him, he couldn’t see me and he might not realise I’d hit him. The van pulled forward slightly. I looked at the back of the van. No damage. Not even a mark where my front wheel had hit it. I had a second attempt at kick starting the bike. A roar emitted from my exhaust as I uttered a sigh of relief. I pulled forward again behind the van and tucked myself in so he couldn’t see me in his mirrors. All was going to be OK.
I entered the roundabout and made my way to the traffic lights. They were on green. I rode through and made my way down the road. Right at the last minute I saw a speed camera. I looked down 37 mph. A thought shot through my mind. Was this a 30 limit? I anchored on the brakes down to 30 mph and began frantically looking in my one remaining mirror to see if I could see a flash from the camera. Nothing. Phew. I carried on to work. By this time, I was a complete wreck. My hands were shacking and sweat was running down my back. Adrenaline has a lot to answer for, but I finally made it to work. I hoisted my bike onto centre stand, locked it up and was glad to be at work.
That day started as a beautiful summer’s day and ended up a nightmare!!!
I could hear the <dog> downstairs doing his usual early morning wake up call. Sounded more like a <cat> in labour from the high pitched squeals he was making. I went back into the bedroom and got dressed. The huge lump in the middle of the bed moved and began to snort like a pig in mud. It was alright for some. No work for him today so I had to walk the <dog>. I hate mornings so walking a demented animal before I had chance to wake up properly wasn’t a good prospect.
I quickly got dressed and made my way down stairs. Murray (the <dog>) was jumping furiously at the gate between the kitchen and the living room. Shoving him out the way, I donned my coat and unlocked the front door. I reached for the lead only to be attacked by Murray in his excitement at going out. I was thrown against the front door and banged my head. <headhurts> I should have gone back to bed there and then.
I finally managed to get the lead on Murray and once I opened the door I was dragged outside like a slave wearing chains. <grr> He was going so fast I had no choice but to run. This was going to be a very quick walk. I raced round the corner and felt the usual squelch underneath my right foot. Dog poo. <steam> That did it for me. I shouted at Murray and demanded he do his business. He did, but I think it was out of pure fright rather than the actual need to go. I cleaned it up and threw it away in the dog poo bin. I then marched back to the house with <dog> in tow.
Once back at the house I cleaned my shoe, trying not the vomit <ill> what little contents I still had in my stomach. I fed Murray and went upstairs to wash my hands and get changed into my bike leathers. The lump in the middle of the bed made more movements and the snorting sounds were rising to a crescendo!! I grabbed my gear and went back downstairs. I grabbed my keys and my bike bag and got outside as quickly as I could.
I pulled the cover of my bike and started her up. She was an old S reg XS250 (Yamaha). Bright red I would have imagined her colour when she was first made, but now she was a sort of dull attempt and being red. I quickly got my gear on and sat on the bike. Slowly I backed down the driveway making sure not to run over next doors grass or hit the car. Once on the road I straightened up. I did my usual pre-ride checks. You know, checking your mirrors and stuff. Except I only had one mirror left. The other got damaged when I had to use the kick start after the electric start failed me. I always dropped the bike when I had to kick start it. It usually had this horrible reaction of kicking back at me and making me lose my balance. <wah>
Satisfied, I pulled away and began the 8 mile journey to work. It was an incident free ride. I joined the M56 heading towards Chester. I dodged through traffic and roared past lorries. (Well not so much roared as squeaked). I took the slip road to the M53, Chester. Then I got blinded by the sun. I realised I had forgotten my sun glasses. My eyes began to water <cry> but I was going to have to grin and bear it.
I decided to carry on after the end of the motor way along the A55 to the Vicars Cross roundabout. It would be easier getting into work going that way. I continued to bomb along (well doing 50 any way. Getting more out of the bike was quite difficult!!)<winkeye> After a few miles, my turning came up, I indicated and pulled into the slip road positioning myself to take the right hand lane. There was a van in front of me, a little bigger than a transit van. I hated not being able to see in front of me! I began to slow down and started to touch my back brakes.
With horror, I realised I wasn’t slowing down quickly enough. <yikes> I grabbed my front brake and gritted my teeth. The van got closer and closer and then……thud. I hit it. It was only a gentle one, but enough for me to stall my bike. I tried to start it using the electric start. No joy. Oh God. That meant a kick start. So I did it. I pushed down as hard as I could with my right foot and nearly got thrown from the bike as it lurched back at me. I looked up at the van and realised that if I could stay right behind him, he couldn’t see me and he might not realise I’d hit him. The van pulled forward slightly. I looked at the back of the van. No damage. Not even a mark where my front wheel had hit it. I had a second attempt at kick starting the bike. A roar emitted from my exhaust as I uttered a sigh of relief. I pulled forward again behind the van and tucked myself in so he couldn’t see me in his mirrors. All was going to be OK.
I entered the roundabout and made my way to the traffic lights. They were on green. I rode through and made my way down the road. Right at the last minute I saw a speed camera. I looked down 37 mph. A thought shot through my mind. Was this a 30 limit? I anchored on the brakes down to 30 mph and began frantically looking in my one remaining mirror to see if I could see a flash from the camera. Nothing. Phew. I carried on to work. By this time, I was a complete wreck. My hands were shacking and sweat was running down my back. Adrenaline has a lot to answer for, but I finally made it to work. I hoisted my bike onto centre stand, locked it up and was glad to be at work.
That day started as a beautiful summer’s day and ended up a nightmare!!!
