So anyhoo, my boat engine is currently FUBAR, my fridge died, my tin opener broke, and I got literal ring sting from a nettle, as well as feeling like I’d been dipped in dog shit while dragging my piece-of-crap boat all the way home. To be fair, things brightened up after I got a replacement fridge and tin opener (and had a shower) and as I can be rather a morose, moody little flower, I actually felt like I was doing quite well emotionally in the face of all ma’ adversity.
THEN SOME FUCKER STOLE MY MOTORBIKE.
This is Horsey. Horsey is a CB750 F2 motorbike that I loved very much. I loved it so much, I bought it twice… I had to sell it when I bought my boat because I needed the money, but a year later, the guy who bought it from me put it up on Ebay, and I bought it back.
It is not a fast, valuable or blingy bike; it is 23-odd years old, not sporty nor highly sought after, and generally the perfect fit for someone like me, who doesn’t want to spend a lot, is allergic to doing maintenance work and yet still expects the bike to start every time. Go Team Honda!
So anyhow. I was on me boat in Northamptonshire with Horsey (one of my old bike’s number plates read phonetically similarly to the Welsh word for “horse”-ceffyl. So that bike became “Horsey,” as have all of my bikes since then). The bike was parked in a layby less than 100 feet from my boat as the crow flies. I sat outside the boat working on my laptop for a bit (two separate people passed me and said it looked like I was set up to read tarot on the towpath… this may bear some looking into!) before getting my bike keys and heading up to the layby to go to the shops.
My bike wasn’t there.
…And my face was all like:
I have never had a vehicle stolen before, but I’m guessing a few of you have… And I bet you also stood in the spot where your car or bike should have been for a good five minutes or more, blinking stupidly and not really registering what has happened and where the hell your bike/car was.
After this feeling passed, I phone the police on 101 (and what a shit service! Calls to 101 are chargeable from mobiles, and when I got through I spent a solid half hour on hold before anyone actually spoke to me) .
…And my face was all like:
As expected, they took basic details from me, gave me a crime number for my insurers, and told me pretty much not to expect to get it back.
Maybe they should be the ones doing the tarot, because their prediction has worked out accurately so far…
So anyhow, RIP Horsey, I miss you and you will always have a home with me. I didn’t want to have to buy a new bike, but I do need transport, and I went about arranging this in my usual fashion: Deciding on the lowest possible budget and chancing my luck on Gumtree and Ebay with some cheeky offers.
This seems to have paid off, as I have just made arrangements to buy a replacement Horsey that is rather different from my prior clunky old reliable mount… A Triumph Trophy 1200, because VROOM VROOM!
Not this one. This one is brand new and very shiny.
So I am slightly more cheery now, and this will no doubt continue, providing that collecting it goes to plan and the engine doesn’t fall out on the way home.
Everything is broken and everything sucks: Not anymore! Screw you, fate, bite me!
Ps., I’m going to take another opportunity here while I’m banging on about bikes to big up this goth/biker themed wedding that I have mentioned before- more pics here!
