It's all about motorcycles these days, on this transport blog. There's Lukeya's Norton, LL's Ducati, Fredd's Kawasaki and lots more. This puts me in mind of a biker party I went to, many, many years ago.
There I was, on New Year's Eve, at a party. They were a mixed crew, a couple of Wolf's Outlaws, maybe a Bandido or two, perhaps a Desperado, and there I was, regimental tie, blazer, the whole, "I say, you men, carry on," type of thing.
As the New Year struck, I congratulated the assembled outlaws with a hearty "Happy New Year!" including one ne'er do well who was at least 8' high and 5' wide. "Is it? F***er?" he asked me. I didn't reply, but I stood up (even straighter), looked that ruffian right in the eye, and prepared to die like a soldier.
The leaders of the party saved me, fortunately. "Leave him alone!" they said, "He's Adolf! And he's alright."
And that was that. Why did the outlaws call me Adolf? I'll leave you to ponder that.
Born to ride,
LSP
