That was close …

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That really was close…


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And so… this story refers to a friend of a friend, of a friend, but it is, nonetheless very true. However, for the sake of storytelling I will use the pronoun ‘I’ rather than the more correct she, since I hope it will give a more personal feel to it; that is the only reason I assure you!


I was riding along a main road on my way to work. There was a little traffic, but not much. As normal, on the motorbike, when you get to slow moving vehicles it’s very easy to just zip passed effortlessly. I got to a roundabout or rotary, and a very slow moving lorry was in front, and so as soon as he had left the traffic circle and got back onto the main road, I slipped passed and away I went. Easy!

After about 100 yards, I looked back in the mirror and I saw the truck way behind, still struggling along with its heavy load, but there was also a police siren sounding, headlights shining and a blue lamp flashing. Why? For me? Surely not! Well they were so far behind, I thought I’d better just shoot along a bit faster and get out of their way. Just in case.

The speed limit along there is 60kmh (37mph), and I looked down and I’d just passed 120 (74). On a bike, it’s very sensitive to a bit of a jerk to the wrist, and you just fly along like a bullet. This is one of the things which is so beautiful about riding a sports bike, apart from beating the morning rush hour, it gives you that sense of freedom, and of being in connection to the world. The breeze in your face. The sound of wind rushing passed you ears. Great!

I had got to where I was going, so I turned off, and went round behind the building. I parked, turned off the engine, and listened. The siren stopped. All was quiet. Good. They must have been chasing someone else.


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