I was riding home from work on Thursday and I thought "Fuck it's a nice day I'll go for a ride..." I'm riding along marvelling at the day and the freedom of it all, wondering where to ride to...? Mangaroa Valley is nice? The Taka's? I got home and called my mate (in Napier) "Got a bed?" "Yep" the I called my mate in Tauranga "You home for the weekend?" "Yep"
So some clean undies (Mum always said "Be prepared") and a couple of other bits and I was gone. Ne'er mind those worrysome droplets of oil I'd noticed. Just two drops - no harms I'm think...
I had time to think and ponder on my journey north. The joy of the warm summer breeze, the delight of the twisting goat track of the Taka's, even cruising through the 'rapa in the dying rays of the day to be greeted by so many suicidal moffs!! My visor was the canvas, their bodies my palette *bastard things* Arriving home to friends as though they are kin is a great feeling - their home not mine. Welcomed by the scamp that is HxC and his "Road Cones of Death", MSTRS and his mistress Yungatart... "Hmmm" Methinks as steed is stabled for the night "appears to be a plenty drop of oil under thar." MSTRS does agree and says he "I think you've got an oil leak" Why say many words when a few accurate will do. Wine (or at least beer) women and song (ok we just yarned) followed into the wee smalls. For me though, an early start but no one else was awake! What to do? WWE into the Laird and Lady's chambers to awake them from blissful slumber!! It was nice that MSTRS got up after that to make me breakfast.
Well, we have a yarn and a ponder upon the leaking steed. Says me "It doesn't seem to have leaked anymore..." So I reckon I can get it to chez DMNTD for the full monty (Shhh... he 'knows' people) NOPE. I gets me as far as Wasp27's base of operations and a puddle does appear as quickly as I've stopped. Oooo that's not good. Best I get my sorry arse back to th' kinfolk fer some reeshurance.
Her skirts are lowered, the bustier gone, all's that left are the drawers hiding whatever modesty is left. Well, ok then, we took off the fairings, pipe and sump as appears the problem is a cross-threaded sump plug. Away to the workshop of as previously said legend that is Wasp27. A drilling and a milling ensued (it's REALLY handy knowing an aircraft engineer) and "Hey Presto!" right as rain a jolly good job well done. She is dressed again and away we go! After of course the obligatory hugging and tears of farewell. Escorted from town ostensibly to "show me the way" seemed more like a frog march but I'll take whatever farewell I can get.
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