Burning Rubber
I got a nail in my rear tyre on a UK trip on the BMW K1200RS pictured and found the nearest motorcycle tyre fitter. They only changed tyres on ‘loose wheels’ (i.e. removed from the bike) so the proprietor gave me some tools to take it off as his fitters were not trained to do this.
He then hung around and regaled me as follows…
"There's some grease up there if you want to put some on the threads before yer put it back on. They say you shouldn't do it but if you have to get the wheel off by the side of the road you'll be buggered. Have you got one of these? [Emergency tyre repair kit] Magic they are but they say you can't use them if the puncture's in the side of the tyre. Bollocks that is. There's just too much regulation now. Where? Everywhere. I mean, I'm building my daughter a house and the building inspector has told me I've got to change the upstairs windows because there's not enough room for a cripple to jump out if there's a fire! Now her husband, he's a policeman, he says he crawls through windows bigger than that all the time. It's because they're council employees who don't get paid much and live in fucking shit-holes. Jealousy, that's what it is. Bloody officials. Like speed cameras; I picked my wife up from Heathrow a couple of months back - she'd just come back from America - and it was about half nine in the morning and I was doing about seventy-five or eighty and then two weeks later, I get a fuckin' letter so I wrote back and said it was a mate of mine driving who now lives in Australia. Now I checked with him and he said it was OK and so when he next comes over, I'll give him a couple of thousand quid. Generous? I suppose so but then again, I did shag his wife when he wasn't looking so fairs fair. She died of ME, you know. He had this Vector, and it needed a new wing mirror so I said give it to me and I'll sort it so I took it down to the Vauxhall place and the bloke says "What chassis number and model year is it; there's five types" so I said "I don't know" so he says "I can't help" so I go back to my mates, get the handbook then go back to the garage and there's another bloke serving so I show him the mirror and he says "I know what that is" and brings out all five to match it up and so I said "thanks very much, why couldn't that lazy little c**t do that? Get the c**t out here now" It turns out the other bloke's the gaffer so they try and get him but he's on the phone the whole time and won't come out. Works at Mann Egerton now and he stays in the back whenever I go in. There's some grease up there if you want to put some on the threads before yer put it back on......"
As soon as I was done, I went to the local McDonald’s, ordered a tea and wrote it down as best as I could remember. For obvious reasons, I can’t disclose the location as the garage is still trading.
God knows how, but it is…