TALES FROM THE SHED
This is a sad and familiar winter’s tale. I spend decades perfecting the perfect winter motorcycle – in this case the noble Royal Enfield Bullet, of course – and after diligent and indeed tireless effort and expense I get it ready for the road. The Better Third positively purrs with approval … then sells it. It’s just happened again.
Not a problem, of course, because domestic happiness is more important than any personal achievement (other views may of course be available) but in this case the sudden and unexpected departure meant that you, gentle reader, aren’t able to properly enjoy the gripping topic I had planned for this month’s Shedisode. My great plan was that I would drag out an ancient plonker (no no, this is not a political party broadcast on behalf of the Monster Raving Loonie party) and run it alongside the Bullet for a while to compare the two. The criteria for the classic victim were that it should also be a single, it should be worth about the same as the Bullet, and that I should own one already, thus keeping expenditure under control and of course saving the planet.
Finding a bike in The Shed is rather less of a problem than it used to be, due to the sad departure of many motorcycles. Or rather, happy departure, as decent motorcycles deserve to get used, abused and then cherished. Which is the argument against collecting, of course, although it’s never bothered me, to be honest. Quite the contrary in years gone by, in fact. For a while I suffered from friends coming out with the ‘but you don’t ride it’ argument, followed by ‘let me buy it’, followed by me selling it to them and then spotting it for sale on
