- Joined
- Apr 2, 2008
- Messages
- 398
- Location
- Hastings, East Sussex
I just received my bike back from a major service, the garage dropped it off after a few days, and I looked at the weather, then the bike and I thought it's RSVR o'clock. I needed to commute to london to work, so why not go in style.
Well, I was blasting down the A21, Lamberhurst bypass, and I mean blasting, when a pheasant the size of a Xmas turkey, decided to fly into me. Having ducked, excuse the analogy, out of the way and having only felt a bang on my right arm, I thought I got away with it yet again; you see, birds have a certainly liking to me, as they always seem tomake their way towards me. So as I am approaching a lorry, I begin my overtaking routine, look at the mirror, and then look for the mirror. The damn thing is no longer there. Where is it? Then it dawns on me..... The bird must have hit it and it snapped, but hold on, what is all this red stuff on my yellow tank. The bird got well and truly stufed and my bike and leather suit was covered in blood. So I make my way to a petrol station to try and wash my self and my pride down, and I am sure that it must have looked quite a sight, with all the stabbings being reported in London lately, to see a biker washing a considerable amount blood off his leathers. I hope I did not put the family next to my bike off their sandwiches, as they were eating while I was hosing myself down.
As a point of note, dead pheasant in the heat STINKS!!!
Well, I was blasting down the A21, Lamberhurst bypass, and I mean blasting, when a pheasant the size of a Xmas turkey, decided to fly into me. Having ducked, excuse the analogy, out of the way and having only felt a bang on my right arm, I thought I got away with it yet again; you see, birds have a certainly liking to me, as they always seem tomake their way towards me. So as I am approaching a lorry, I begin my overtaking routine, look at the mirror, and then look for the mirror. The damn thing is no longer there. Where is it? Then it dawns on me..... The bird must have hit it and it snapped, but hold on, what is all this red stuff on my yellow tank. The bird got well and truly stufed and my bike and leather suit was covered in blood. So I make my way to a petrol station to try and wash my self and my pride down, and I am sure that it must have looked quite a sight, with all the stabbings being reported in London lately, to see a biker washing a considerable amount blood off his leathers. I hope I did not put the family next to my bike off their sandwiches, as they were eating while I was hosing myself down.
As a point of note, dead pheasant in the heat STINKS!!!
irate
