New Years Challenge

A few years back and there you have it, I was in 'Nam, Cheltenham. It being New Year's Eve it seemed right to visit some friends, regimental tie and blazer no less. And there we were, "Happy New Year, fella," I offered some massive biker, "Is it, F***r?" came the electric synapse, ultra dopamine quick response.

I looked at the offensive mountain of oily denim, leather, hair and worse and said, "Devil take you and twice as fast." He didn't, fortunately, because the owners, ahem, of the house broke in, "Leave him alone, he's Adolf." And so he did.

Funny thing, I was the last man standing at that biker event, at 4++ in the morning. Lightweights, obviously.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Biker Eschaton

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