Hi,
Sorry to have been absent for a few days ... PC glitch. This morning I discovered my lap-top will connect to the Internet provided I pull the BT plug.
I will now try to go sort of OT (not sure if that is ON or OFF).
I taught Barbara to drive in Penang, in a 1951 Sunbeam Talbot 90. On returning to UK, she had one professional lesson in a Fo rd Escort, and took her test in South Norwood in a dilapidated Mini ... and passed. She must have been close to being the first pass of 1971 ... there was still snow on the roads.
Due to her gammy arm (cack handed midwife), she was restricted to "a Motor Car and a Motor Tricycle". She has never ridden a bicycle , although she rode pillion on my bike in Penang ... Malaysia does not, or did not,
have a MOPED group, so my UK moped entitlement allowed me to ride a 185cc bike.
I only came off once ... actually I didn't come off ... at the end of our side road, I slowed, saw nothing was coming, so opened the tap. The back wheel slipped away, so I stepped off ... but forgot to let go of the handlebars, leading to me yanking the twist grip. The bike rear up, and shot away, yanking me with it. The next hundred yards were covered with me draped over the saddle, feet one side, head the other side, right hand still gripping the twist grip. The C of G moved back ... my position made me yank the grip ... engine picked up ... front wheel lifted ... bike shot down the road with me draped over the saddle ... I closed the throttle ... front wheel dropped ... which jerked me ... throttle opened ... bike shot away ... wheel lifted ...... I think I went through that sequence about three times before I managed not to yank the throttle as the front wheel landed. Me and the bike hit the tarmac, removed some skin from my arm.
Not wanting to worry Barbara, who may have been waiting to watch me pass a gap in the houses, I remounted,and continued my journey.
On arrival at RAAF Butterworth, I pulled into the Sick Bay, had my arm sprayed with "Honda Rash" .... the purple dye stuff, beloved of bikers. We usually rode in helmet, short sleeve shirt, and shorts.
I once rode home in a monsoon (Barbara on the pillion). The rain was horizontal "stair rods". My bike let it be known that it did not like having wet ignition. It got us home, but spluttery misfire all the way.
Of the 2000ish Brit and Oz personnel at Butterworth, I was told by a Snowdrop, 18 bikers were killed in the two years I was there. One drowned in a monsoon ditch, under his bike.
602