Post by comstar on Sept 21, 2021 22:14:47 GMT
Just seen this elsewhere on the internet but wanted to share it here.....I thought it was just so well written and something that some of you may be able to relate to. Enjoy: 
"OK, about the '70's biking. I am that old! But a tale to tell? And yes, I still ride my bikes like it was yesterday.
The long hot summer of '76. Away for a bike rally at Aysgarth in Yorkshire. It was just me and the 400-4, no other club members were able to go. As unlucky would have it the heavens opened as I neared the rally site. The left hand bend seemed so improbable for a catastrophe, yet midway through it the steed let go. I kicked it away to see it slither to the stone wall with me in tandem at curious safe synchronised distance.
I stopped short unhurt except for pride left wanting and my ripped jeans, picked the thing up expecting twisted end. But, I had fitted crash bars a few weeks before and they took the pain, the bike was OK. I nipped over the wall to change my jeans to the sounds of another crash. Looking over the immortal stones I saw a lorry sideways after colliding with a car. All that imbedded oil was flushed to the road surface by the downpour to create a skating rink beyond vulcanised hopeful grip.
Anyways, new jeans on and bike righted we just got on with it and arrived at the rally site. Somewhat crest fallen, I gathered my failure to the pub, where tales of daring do were the music of the night. Somehow I had no harmony to offer, and after a solitary pint shrunk to my tent for refuge. An early night for a defeated day. Saturday morning shone its penetrating light through thin canvas with furnace enough to let slumber be, dreams gone for reality. Sure, I had failed, but got away with it except for a little pride and denim torn away. I had my radio with me and the afternoons contemplation was comforted with the history of the Beach Boys. Strangely fitting after having beached my bike. And me with it! But it was kind, like musical ointment for a fallen fools failure.
I mused that but for a few moments I could have been swiped under the following lorry if coincidence had contrived. It was not to be. Some serendipity."
"OK, about the '70's biking. I am that old! But a tale to tell? And yes, I still ride my bikes like it was yesterday.
The long hot summer of '76. Away for a bike rally at Aysgarth in Yorkshire. It was just me and the 400-4, no other club members were able to go. As unlucky would have it the heavens opened as I neared the rally site. The left hand bend seemed so improbable for a catastrophe, yet midway through it the steed let go. I kicked it away to see it slither to the stone wall with me in tandem at curious safe synchronised distance.
I stopped short unhurt except for pride left wanting and my ripped jeans, picked the thing up expecting twisted end. But, I had fitted crash bars a few weeks before and they took the pain, the bike was OK. I nipped over the wall to change my jeans to the sounds of another crash. Looking over the immortal stones I saw a lorry sideways after colliding with a car. All that imbedded oil was flushed to the road surface by the downpour to create a skating rink beyond vulcanised hopeful grip.
Anyways, new jeans on and bike righted we just got on with it and arrived at the rally site. Somewhat crest fallen, I gathered my failure to the pub, where tales of daring do were the music of the night. Somehow I had no harmony to offer, and after a solitary pint shrunk to my tent for refuge. An early night for a defeated day. Saturday morning shone its penetrating light through thin canvas with furnace enough to let slumber be, dreams gone for reality. Sure, I had failed, but got away with it except for a little pride and denim torn away. I had my radio with me and the afternoons contemplation was comforted with the history of the Beach Boys. Strangely fitting after having beached my bike. And me with it! But it was kind, like musical ointment for a fallen fools failure.
I mused that but for a few moments I could have been swiped under the following lorry if coincidence had contrived. It was not to be. Some serendipity."
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