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CHAPTER FOUR - 21
Loading up the bike
again on the trailer I made sure that it couldn’t move on the return
journey. I used all the straps and a few lengths of good ole rope, that
bike was going nowhere. I was doing quite well most of the way back, I
kept looking in the rear view mirror to make sure all was well.
I was on the approach
to the M27 flyover when all of a sudden there were blue flashes and that
‘O Shit’ sound of the Police siren. I quickly looked at the speedo and
saw that I was not speeding, only 40mph in a 60 limit, the lights looked
alright, I was driving on the correct side of the road. I thought of the
trailer lights, but there were no indicators on the dashboard to say the
lights were not working. I looked at the bike and thought it had moved
slightly but I wasn’t sure.
 I
pulled over and the police car stopped behind me, I hate the part where
you stop and sit in the car, they don’t get out either and just sit
there, (I reckon they’re waiting for you to panic and make a dash for
it). The wait can seem forever, anyway they got out their car and I got
out of mine, I stepped from a nice warm car into 2 degrees below in
shirt sleeves. I was shaking from cold and anticipation I tried to say
calmly, “Good evening Officers, what’s the problem”, but the word
‘Officers’ was replaced by ‘Oscifirs’ for some unknown reason, they
either didn’t hear me or decided to ignore it, so I blamed that bit on
the cold.
Walking to the back of
the trailer my heart sunk as I saw the remains of a ratchet strap that
was broken in half, I had obviously lost one. One policeman looked round
the trailer, car and finally the bike while the other spoke to me with
all the usual questions like; where have I been, where am I going, is
that your bike? At this point I would have loved to have said “well I be
blowed, where did that come from” but I stopped myself just in time.
“Why have you stopped
me” I asked holding my breath, and he told me that one of the ratchet
straps had broken and the bike moved slightly. Unfortunately when the
strap broke, the ratchet was on the outside of the trailer, under
tension, it flew backwards right onto the front bumper of the police car
- ouch!
It turned out they
weren’t too worried, as both of them looked at the bike and one said to
the other “there, I told you it was a Ural”.
This produced very low mutterings from me, they were more worried about
the bike than their car, and it was only a small dent in the front
anyway, and didn’t really look out of place with the other dozen or so.
I thought they may be in competition with other police cars to see who
could collect the greatest number of dents in one shift. The interest
point was definitely the bike as they were asking the normal questions.
In the end I had to say to them, “can I go now, I’m freezing”. Their
closing suggestion was that I get some new straps, and they said
goodnight.
The rest of the
journey was uneventful. The bike is now back in the garage and work will
be starting again in the next week or so. |
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