graeme
02-21-2003, 06:35 AM
Monday 17th February
A day off work to do my "CBT"! Up nice and early because I remembered last night that I needed to dig out Tarquin's skateboard knee-pads and elbow-pads; one can't be too careful on these motorbikes. I arrive at the training centre and am introduced to the instructor,Robert, and the 15 other people that are doing their CBT today. Funnily enough we all belong to the same squash club (except Robert) and we've all bought identical "Arai" crash helmets, just like the ones that were in the latest GQ. Once he's taken his head out of his hands, Robert wheels out a bike to talk us through the controls. The bike is a "CG125" and looks likesomething that someone from a council estate might ride. As soon as
Robert says we'll be riding these we all pull out our copies of GQ and point to the "GSX-R 1000" that we've _all_ bought (I feel like I am among friends). Robert goes off on a tangent about something to do with the law, but I miss most of it because Jeremy phones to discuss the Russell account.
Anyway, by the time I come off the phone Robert is telling us that the CG125 is a better bike than the GSX-R. This calms the group down a bit and the copies of GQ are put away again. The rest of the morning goes fine, but these bikes are ruddy strange things; change gear with your foot, go faster with your hand, no CD player, etc.They're a bit chilly as well and I begin to wish I'd worn thicker slacks, still at least my Barbour coat is warm enough, It goes downhill just before lunch when Robert has a bit of a funny turn. We were all just doing our thing when he suddenly broke down and started shouting, "If one more of you fuckers stops to answer your phone then I am going to rip off their fucking iridium visor and ram it uptheir fucking arsehole!". It all goes a bit quiet after that and Jonathan retracts his offer to take Robert for a round at his club - he's obviously not sound. After lunch it's more riding around cones - they certainly teach you how
to deal with those city road works. Robert is still in a bit of a huff and won't answer simple questions like, "How do I wheelie?" and "How do I get my knee down?", we think he probably doesn't know. He _is_ on a BMW and we all know what BMW drivers are like, right? However, it does
appear that Audi don't make motorbikes, unbelievable!
A little later Robert tells us that it's time to go out on the road and it sounds like he is praying, just my luck to get a religious fanatic for an instructor. Mind you, he's not going to heaven until he repents for some of the things he's said today.
Out on the road things are a bit disappointing, GQ clearly says that the GSX-R 1000 can do 190mph and 0-60 in 2 seconds and Robert told us the CG125 was a better bike, but mine will barely reach 60, let along get there in 2 seconds. I stop to tell Robert that I think there is something wrong with the bike and he says some things that will ensure he won't be getting into heaven until the day Arafat is Pope (hmmm,
that's quite witty - I wonder if I can work it into Thursday's
presentation). At the end of the day Robert gives us a little speech, "Right, you're all complete fuckwits and the chances of any of you lasting more than 30 seconds on a bike without supervision is almost nil, but I hate the fucking lot of you so I'm going to pass you all. May god have mercy on
your souls." - more religious mumbo-jumbo. Anyway, we all (except Robert) go for a celebratory drink and, after a
few, decide we'll form a motorcycle gang called "The City Slickers". Toby says that the company who do promotional give-aways for his company can probably get us some t-shirts, key-rings and stuff done up cheaply.
Tuesday 18th February
Woking from home this morning, waiting for the new bike to be delivered. It eventually turns up at 10:30 and the whole family comes out to have alook. Tarquin asks if I'll take him on the back, but I tell him that I need to build up some experience first, so he's going to wait until Saturday. Susan seems a bit non-plussed by the whole thing, but I think she is still sulking because I'm getting this instead of the SLK she wanted. I was going to go into the office this afternoon, but try as I might Ican't get the kick start to work properly. Eventually, in desperation, I phone the Suzuki help-line. The rather bored sounding young lady who answers the phone just says, "Welcome to the Suzuki help-line. You put petrol in the hole in the top of the tank, which you open using the key,
you start it using the little button on the right-hand bar, your bike doesn't have fog-lights which is why you can't turn them on and new 'plastic bits' are available from your nearest Suzuki dealer.", and then hangs up. I'm beginning to doubt the old myth that all bikers are friendly. Anyway, before I get a chance to start the bike Jeremy phones with some
preliminary figures for the quarter and, by the time we've finished working through them it's looking pretty cold and dark outside, so I just give the bike a quick polish and leave it for the night.
Wednesday 19th February
Well, what a day! Robert definitely lied to us - there is no way the CG125 is a faster bike than the GSX-R. I saw 105mph on the clock going down the M40 and I could have gone faster but my suit jacket was flapping about so much that my Marlboro's fell out of the pocket. By the time I'd done a few traffic lights and roundabouts I was feeling a bit nervous and decided not to filter through the traffic. As it turned out there wasn't anywhere to filter anyway, as the bit between the lanes was all clogged up with people on scooters. Anyway, when I got to the office I phoned Robert at the training centre to ask how to _stop_ doing wheelies, but apparently he is off work with stress. The person I spoke to suggested that maybe I was in the wrong gear, so I nipped out at lunch time to buy some new biking kit. The nice salesman who served me asked what kind of bike I rode and how long I'd been riding and then showed me something that looked like an
exoskeleton. I think it looks pretty cool and once I get some "City Slickers" patches on I'll look like a "real" biker.
Speaking of the City Slickers it was our first meeting tonight, after work. The pub car-park was so crowded, you could hardly move for brand new bikes - mainly GSX-R1000s and Harley Davidsons. Anyway, only 11 of us turned up, nobody has a clue where the other 5 were. Maybe they decided that biking wasn't for them. By the time we turfed out at 11:30 it was pitch black and I'm amazed that these dark visors aren't illegal, because it is so difficult to ride at night with them on. Eventually I had to stop and take my shades off.
Thursday 20th February
My new kit is certainly worth its weight in gold, it didn't stop me from doing wheelies, but it made going faster a lot easier (125mph on the A40, I'm glad that bikes are exempt from speeding tickets) and it meant that I hardly felt a thing when the courier punched me. I'm not quite sure why he punched me, mind. Most of the scooters had gone today, so I was happily paddling my bike down the middle of the road when he stopped his bike, put it on its stand, ran round in front of me, shouted something and then punched me. Amazingly he did the same thing again half a mile later and then again 300 yards after that. On the final time he pushed my bike over, pushed me on top of it and sped off into the distance. I think that, maybe, he hasn't been doing the job long and the London traffic got a bit much for him. I'm certainly glad that my bike has these useful plastic bits at the sides to stop anything expensive getting damaged when it falls over. If
it wasn't for them the courier's assault might have cost me some serious money. The presentation went well and I managed to work in the Arafat joke, it got a good laugh to. Jeremy and I are meeting tomorrow morning to discuss how we're taking this forward. The squash club was practically deserted tonight, no idea where all of the lads have got to.
Friday 21st February
Oh dear, interesting chat with a traffic policeman this morning.
Apparently bikes are only exempt from the congestion charge, not speeding tickets, I do need some other licence other than the CBT and I'm not allowed to use the footpaths, even when the roads are really busy. The policeman who told me all of this wasn't nice at all and just seemed sick of his life. I had a lucky escape, as he got called away to
an "RTA" (whatever one of those is) before he had a chance to write outa ticket. Phew! Jeremy didn't turn up for our meeting this morning. I rang his mobile, but it just rang and rang. I tried calling him at home, but Felicity said he had set off for work at the usual time. If his brand new R1 has
broken down then I'm going to have to extract the urine something rotten. Actually the whole office was quiet today, sombre almost. Maybe everybody is just working from home today. My big gaff of the day was putting my bike through the car-wash on the way home. The chappie who was manning it was laughing as he waved me through, but he won't be laughing when he gets the bill for a new lap-top, that's for sure. I tried to ring the rest of the City Slickers tonight, to see if any of them fancy a "ride-out" at the weekend, but none of them were answering their mobiles. Bloody anti-social bunch. Still, I might take myself down to Bexhill, which I hear is pretty good for bikers. I had a look at the bike before bedtime and it's looking pretty scruffy. That car-wash did it no favours at all. The new FHM had a nice bike called a "Hyabusa" in, which is supposed to be even faster than the GSX-R. Maybe I'll pop into the dealers tomorrow to talk about
upgrading.
A day off work to do my "CBT"! Up nice and early because I remembered last night that I needed to dig out Tarquin's skateboard knee-pads and elbow-pads; one can't be too careful on these motorbikes. I arrive at the training centre and am introduced to the instructor,Robert, and the 15 other people that are doing their CBT today. Funnily enough we all belong to the same squash club (except Robert) and we've all bought identical "Arai" crash helmets, just like the ones that were in the latest GQ. Once he's taken his head out of his hands, Robert wheels out a bike to talk us through the controls. The bike is a "CG125" and looks likesomething that someone from a council estate might ride. As soon as
Robert says we'll be riding these we all pull out our copies of GQ and point to the "GSX-R 1000" that we've _all_ bought (I feel like I am among friends). Robert goes off on a tangent about something to do with the law, but I miss most of it because Jeremy phones to discuss the Russell account.
Anyway, by the time I come off the phone Robert is telling us that the CG125 is a better bike than the GSX-R. This calms the group down a bit and the copies of GQ are put away again. The rest of the morning goes fine, but these bikes are ruddy strange things; change gear with your foot, go faster with your hand, no CD player, etc.They're a bit chilly as well and I begin to wish I'd worn thicker slacks, still at least my Barbour coat is warm enough, It goes downhill just before lunch when Robert has a bit of a funny turn. We were all just doing our thing when he suddenly broke down and started shouting, "If one more of you fuckers stops to answer your phone then I am going to rip off their fucking iridium visor and ram it uptheir fucking arsehole!". It all goes a bit quiet after that and Jonathan retracts his offer to take Robert for a round at his club - he's obviously not sound. After lunch it's more riding around cones - they certainly teach you how
to deal with those city road works. Robert is still in a bit of a huff and won't answer simple questions like, "How do I wheelie?" and "How do I get my knee down?", we think he probably doesn't know. He _is_ on a BMW and we all know what BMW drivers are like, right? However, it does
appear that Audi don't make motorbikes, unbelievable!
A little later Robert tells us that it's time to go out on the road and it sounds like he is praying, just my luck to get a religious fanatic for an instructor. Mind you, he's not going to heaven until he repents for some of the things he's said today.
Out on the road things are a bit disappointing, GQ clearly says that the GSX-R 1000 can do 190mph and 0-60 in 2 seconds and Robert told us the CG125 was a better bike, but mine will barely reach 60, let along get there in 2 seconds. I stop to tell Robert that I think there is something wrong with the bike and he says some things that will ensure he won't be getting into heaven until the day Arafat is Pope (hmmm,
that's quite witty - I wonder if I can work it into Thursday's
presentation). At the end of the day Robert gives us a little speech, "Right, you're all complete fuckwits and the chances of any of you lasting more than 30 seconds on a bike without supervision is almost nil, but I hate the fucking lot of you so I'm going to pass you all. May god have mercy on
your souls." - more religious mumbo-jumbo. Anyway, we all (except Robert) go for a celebratory drink and, after a
few, decide we'll form a motorcycle gang called "The City Slickers". Toby says that the company who do promotional give-aways for his company can probably get us some t-shirts, key-rings and stuff done up cheaply.
Tuesday 18th February
Woking from home this morning, waiting for the new bike to be delivered. It eventually turns up at 10:30 and the whole family comes out to have alook. Tarquin asks if I'll take him on the back, but I tell him that I need to build up some experience first, so he's going to wait until Saturday. Susan seems a bit non-plussed by the whole thing, but I think she is still sulking because I'm getting this instead of the SLK she wanted. I was going to go into the office this afternoon, but try as I might Ican't get the kick start to work properly. Eventually, in desperation, I phone the Suzuki help-line. The rather bored sounding young lady who answers the phone just says, "Welcome to the Suzuki help-line. You put petrol in the hole in the top of the tank, which you open using the key,
you start it using the little button on the right-hand bar, your bike doesn't have fog-lights which is why you can't turn them on and new 'plastic bits' are available from your nearest Suzuki dealer.", and then hangs up. I'm beginning to doubt the old myth that all bikers are friendly. Anyway, before I get a chance to start the bike Jeremy phones with some
preliminary figures for the quarter and, by the time we've finished working through them it's looking pretty cold and dark outside, so I just give the bike a quick polish and leave it for the night.
Wednesday 19th February
Well, what a day! Robert definitely lied to us - there is no way the CG125 is a faster bike than the GSX-R. I saw 105mph on the clock going down the M40 and I could have gone faster but my suit jacket was flapping about so much that my Marlboro's fell out of the pocket. By the time I'd done a few traffic lights and roundabouts I was feeling a bit nervous and decided not to filter through the traffic. As it turned out there wasn't anywhere to filter anyway, as the bit between the lanes was all clogged up with people on scooters. Anyway, when I got to the office I phoned Robert at the training centre to ask how to _stop_ doing wheelies, but apparently he is off work with stress. The person I spoke to suggested that maybe I was in the wrong gear, so I nipped out at lunch time to buy some new biking kit. The nice salesman who served me asked what kind of bike I rode and how long I'd been riding and then showed me something that looked like an
exoskeleton. I think it looks pretty cool and once I get some "City Slickers" patches on I'll look like a "real" biker.
Speaking of the City Slickers it was our first meeting tonight, after work. The pub car-park was so crowded, you could hardly move for brand new bikes - mainly GSX-R1000s and Harley Davidsons. Anyway, only 11 of us turned up, nobody has a clue where the other 5 were. Maybe they decided that biking wasn't for them. By the time we turfed out at 11:30 it was pitch black and I'm amazed that these dark visors aren't illegal, because it is so difficult to ride at night with them on. Eventually I had to stop and take my shades off.
Thursday 20th February
My new kit is certainly worth its weight in gold, it didn't stop me from doing wheelies, but it made going faster a lot easier (125mph on the A40, I'm glad that bikes are exempt from speeding tickets) and it meant that I hardly felt a thing when the courier punched me. I'm not quite sure why he punched me, mind. Most of the scooters had gone today, so I was happily paddling my bike down the middle of the road when he stopped his bike, put it on its stand, ran round in front of me, shouted something and then punched me. Amazingly he did the same thing again half a mile later and then again 300 yards after that. On the final time he pushed my bike over, pushed me on top of it and sped off into the distance. I think that, maybe, he hasn't been doing the job long and the London traffic got a bit much for him. I'm certainly glad that my bike has these useful plastic bits at the sides to stop anything expensive getting damaged when it falls over. If
it wasn't for them the courier's assault might have cost me some serious money. The presentation went well and I managed to work in the Arafat joke, it got a good laugh to. Jeremy and I are meeting tomorrow morning to discuss how we're taking this forward. The squash club was practically deserted tonight, no idea where all of the lads have got to.
Friday 21st February
Oh dear, interesting chat with a traffic policeman this morning.
Apparently bikes are only exempt from the congestion charge, not speeding tickets, I do need some other licence other than the CBT and I'm not allowed to use the footpaths, even when the roads are really busy. The policeman who told me all of this wasn't nice at all and just seemed sick of his life. I had a lucky escape, as he got called away to
an "RTA" (whatever one of those is) before he had a chance to write outa ticket. Phew! Jeremy didn't turn up for our meeting this morning. I rang his mobile, but it just rang and rang. I tried calling him at home, but Felicity said he had set off for work at the usual time. If his brand new R1 has
broken down then I'm going to have to extract the urine something rotten. Actually the whole office was quiet today, sombre almost. Maybe everybody is just working from home today. My big gaff of the day was putting my bike through the car-wash on the way home. The chappie who was manning it was laughing as he waved me through, but he won't be laughing when he gets the bill for a new lap-top, that's for sure. I tried to ring the rest of the City Slickers tonight, to see if any of them fancy a "ride-out" at the weekend, but none of them were answering their mobiles. Bloody anti-social bunch. Still, I might take myself down to Bexhill, which I hear is pretty good for bikers. I had a look at the bike before bedtime and it's looking pretty scruffy. That car-wash did it no favours at all. The new FHM had a nice bike called a "Hyabusa" in, which is supposed to be even faster than the GSX-R. Maybe I'll pop into the dealers tomorrow to talk about
upgrading.