So there I was buzzing my orange iconic Vespa back up the incline to my beloved mountain, enjoying the wind in my face when it happened. The front wheel rejected the party line and I bounced off the beautifully polished asphalt landing in an undignified heap in a ditch. The screech of still-financed metal shedding paint as we slid to a halt cut me to the quick. I threw my skid-lid at the floor petulantly unable to do anything else save suck the tears through my eye sockets and retain some decorum.
I want my mum, I thought looking down at my previously unblemished crutch-buzzer. Could he offer tea and Jaffa cakes? No! I nodded that I was relatively unharmed keeping my upper-lip stiff and Britannic.
He pointed out something on the road just in front of his bumper. My Ebay watch, which apart from a broken strap pin was totally unscathed. Is there no justice in the world?
I picked up the bruised scooter, dented near-side bubble and bent leg-shield. Suck suck choke, the saline tears began to sting. She started after a couple of kicks when I realised that I’d broken my big toe. Ouch!
The traffic began to flow and then I realised the cause of my calamity, diesel. Isn’t fuel expensive enough without unscrupulous tanker drivers spilling it all over the already treacherous road surface throwing middle-aged reborn Mods bouncing into ditches.
|Protect and serve?|
I followed the trail of oil up the hill to its ultimate end at the junction for my village.
The next day I stopped on my way past the police station to make a report. I limped in sporting a freshly scabbing elbow and expressed my woe to the desk Sargent who fobbed me off with feigned concern despite the fact that the trail actually past the station. On my way down I saw the aftermath of another bumper-bounce on the same bend.
I’ve straightened out the worst of the damage now and my elbow will be ready for a new tan soon but I implore drivers to be patient when stuck in a traffic jam caused by a slow moving scooterist on the windy parts of the road to Hortiatis.