In Southern England, an only moderate spring and summer have suddenly sequed into a classical Indian Summer - it hasn't rained at all for over two months. Today, it is absolutely pissing down. So guess when my new bike arrived?? Very nearly right - I actually picked it up yesterday afternoon, and managed the first 60 miles in the glow of a glorious Autumn evening, presumably running on residual kharmic credit. It's been damply downhill ever since.
Firstly, the sadness: watching and listening to the (not note, my) 748 disappear up the road, ridden by its proud new owner. I'd arranged a trade-in for it, while keeping the private sale ads in the papers. The evening before I was due to pick up the new machine, there was a phone message. A viewing the following morning, and a mutually agreeable wodge of cash was exchanged for the machine. So that was that.Secondly, the stupidity: Ten minutes later, in an instant of revelation, I exchanged nostalgic regret for the realisation that I'd just sold the only viable means of getting the 50 miles to Pro Twins to pick up the new bike. Oops. A quick call around and huge thanks to my friend Siobhan for driving me all around the Home Counties in pursuit of an obsession. There will be chocolate (there was).