Well, that was fun. Coming home ... cold, dark and windy as fuck (for those not living in Welly and therefore not knowing the shite day we've had) ... coming up to the airport and it's time to go a bit faster. So I twist me wrist a bit, expecting the trumpet to make a pleasant noise and launch me down the road in the old "god's lacrosse stick" fashion and something entirely unexpected happened.
The engine went, kinda "wwwwwHIMMMM!!!" and the rear wheel decided to try and join me by my right shoulder. Not good. The throttle came off, wheel reattached, and of course swung over to the other side. Thoughts were: "Good, I didn't high side" followed by "oh, hang on" as we enter a potential tank slap, horrible positive feedback loop everything goes to custard situation for a couple of bike lengths and I begin to think I might be meeting the tarmac after all.
Two or three wiggles later and it's all over. I'm upright and going in a straight line. No idea what I did or didn't do, but it was obviously right. Thirty seconds down the road and the adrenaline is finally getting its act together and making the remainder of my ride home even more difficult than it would have been anyway.
A sphincter loosening moment, but at least I'm still alive. Oh, and respect to Triumph's suspension which was obviously involved in not smearing me across one of Wellington's more dangerous pieces of tarmac although I'm starting to suspect my rear tyre is teh fucked.
Perhaps I'll take it just a bit more delicately from now on, eh?
Dave
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