However... If you want to know WHY I did all the things I did (or am still doing - sigh) to my car, you will need to pour yourself a drink, pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable and ask my parents.... or read below.
Please note, some of the pictures below are taken from Google and are not actual photographs of my vehicles. If I get time I will scan pictures in and swap them, but until then, these pictures will have to suffice.
The begining
I'd like to think it was because I was dropped on my head too many times, or starved of oxygen when being born. However, more than likely it was neither of those things and instead of getting involved in drinking, drugs and sex party's (I wish), I just became hooked on all things with an engine. For that I have to blame both my parents. And to think, when I was 8 years old I thought my mums yellow Skoda was cool because it was a 3 door and had a spoiler !!!! Oh the shame, the humiliation. Still, that did teach me a good lesson......I just haven't figured out what it was yet !
So, where did it all start to go wrong? Lets try to work it out shall we? When I was 14 I taught myself to drive in a Renault 4 van in the grounds of my Uncles Chateau in France. You know those old vans? The ones with the gear lever sticking out of the dash just waiting to impale you if you weren't wearing a seat belt !
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Everything was going well until one day. I had to reverse the van (Which was full of rubbish) to a big metal skip in the grounds. Checked mirrors, looked great, reversed and *BANG*. The wonderful sound of breaking glass and bent metal work. Now at this moment, running away to live in the circus seemed like a very good and realistic idea. However, not knowing if they even have circus's (is that the plural of Circus? - I digress), I thought I would do the honourable thing, and blame someone else. That soon backfired as the whole event had been witnessed. Bugger!! So, a cheque from my mum to my uncle to pay for the damage (I'm sure the window cost more than the whole van), was swiftly signed off and the van was now out of reach. Mum should have seen this as a sign and packed me off to join the navy there and then. Unfortunately for her, she didn't.......So, no van.........Just as well for the motorbikes then!!!! I wont go into details about these though as I nearly killed one of my cousins and he's bigger than me now so don't wish to remind him it was me that caused him to walk with a limp for a week.
So, back into the UK and I was 16. My favourite pastime was to watch the Lancia Deltas kick everyone's butt on the world rally scene. Superb. Sadly my Grandma had past away the year before and had left me some money in her will. Thanks Gran. Now I'm sure she had visions of me spending the money on going to University, becoming a Doctor, finding the cure for cancer and winning the NOBEL peace prize. I'd like to think I didn't disappoint and that she actually WANTED me to spend the money on buying my first car. A bright red Lancia Delta. Not an Integrale but hey, I was only 16 and the car cost me £500 !!
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Many a night was spent sitting in the garage, in my car waiting for my 17th Birthday. 26th March 1991 and on my Birthday, I took my first lesson. We wont mention the incident on the roundabout where I mounted it with 2 wheels, but suffice to say, driving a car in Gods waiting room (Worthing) is a hell of a lot different to driving a van round an apple orchard in France. "Funny that" I hear you say. I took a further 3 lessons (one a week) and then my mum hit me with a bombshell. If you want anymore, you need to pay for them yourself !! I was stunned. I didn't have any money and ebay didn't exist so I couldn't start selling of items from the house. I looked into the possibility of selling my sister for science, but apparently they only take dead people. Now as much as I wanted my sisters room (it was bigger than mine), even I drew the line at murder.....allthough I did get close on a number of occasions, but I think that is just normal brother / sister rivalry. I therefore had no option, but to apply for my test.
I duly applied for my test. Had the obligatory half hour lesson before hand, and then the test started. Did the usual "Can you read me that numberplate please" and then into the car. Seat belt on. Mirrors adjusted etc and then pulled out of the car park, right into the path of a Renault Espace !!! I didn't hit the brakes and just carried on going. That's it. I've blown it in the first 5 yards. At this point I relaxed and thought I might as well treat the test as just another lesson. We got back into the car park. I answered the stupid questions and was told I had passed. What?? Huh? Passed? PASSED? I wasn't going to argue but to this day I have no idea how. I can only assume he hadn't noticed my minor, lets call it an indiscretion, as he was too busy filling in the paperwork. Straight back home, onto the phone and another £550 lighter for insurance, I was in my Lancia driving by myself. One hour later I was on the M25. At this point I feel I should apologise to the fuel tanker driver I cut up very badly when I realised I was about to miss my exit ! Whoops.
Nothing much to report for the first six months. Just the usual teenage exuberance. You know, driving round your mates garden with 2 of them on the roof holding on for dear life while you handbrake turn it into the hedges to knock them off. Totally normal to me !! However, one day my complete insanity decided to show itself. Whilst driving my car round Bosham harbour, I decided it would be really good to actually jump my car just like they do in the rallies. Honestly, I amaze myself at my sheer brilliance at times ! First jump was ok'ish. Second was even better and the 3rd rivalled the jump scene in "Gone in 60 Seconds". Well maybe not quite that, but it felt great. You know the feeling. Just as the wheels leave the ground, you think you are about to visit the pearly gates (or even worse, explain your written off car to your parents), but then you land safely....just. No? Just me then. Now as I am driving home, singing to my radio, minding my own business, I went to change gear. Slight problem. No gear lever !! Huh!?!? I looked down and to my horror, my gear lever was 6" lower than it should have been! My whole gear linkage (or whatever you call it) was trailing about 1" off the road!!. Car was still driving so I had an idea. Steer with one hand and hold the gear lever up off the road with my left hand. Brilliant. All those wasted evenings going to Cubs weren't so wasted after all. It was then that I spied a hitchhiker at the side of the road. I pulled over, 2 mins later the deal was done. I would drive him as far as Worthing, and in exchange, he held up my gear lever for me ! What a result. Turned out he was from a travelling circus, although if this was because he had reversed a Renault 4 van into a skip or not, he failed to mention.
A few months later, a very kind lorry driver decided to change lanes into my lane and after knocking me sideways and depositing me into the central reservation, calmly proclaimed "He didn't see me". A bright red Lancia Delta on a very bright sunny day, during rush hour traffic, and he didn't see me?? Mind you, this incident taught me a very valuable lesson. That lesson is, whenever you are involved in a traffic accident, absolutely nobody will stop and help you or offer to be a witness !! Two and half years later, the lorry drivers insurance finally settled my claim......for £400 Lesson number two. All insurance companies are a bunch of thieving, money grabbing, tight fisted swine's. In fact, I'm sure the Mafia could learn a thing or two from them!! Whilst waiting for my claim to be settled, I was still driving around in my car. Albeit very dented and driving slightly like a crab. One day, after a HUGE row with my then girlfriend, I took a bend far too fast and ploughed my beloved Lancia into someone's front garden wall. That was it. Lancia no more. Or was it?
A few months later, with the help of my dad, I became the owner of ANOTHER Lancia Delta. Bought for a few hundred quid as unsuprisingly, this was suffering from rust. The two cars couldn't have been more different if you tried. Whereas my first car had NEVER let me down, hell it had even started and turned over after smashing the poor thing into a brick wall, the second one was a complete lemon !! It had more rust on it than the Titanic and the engine didn't like to start on cold mornings. Mind you, it didn't like to start when it was hot either. Or warm.Or on any day of the week with the letter "A" in it to be honest. It was after the car refused to go faster than 60mph and 4 independent garages had fleeced my dad of hundreds of pounds in wasted diagnostic fees, that I hatched yet another brilliant plan ! We will take the still working engine out of my last car, and transplant it into my new one. The day the engine swap was planned turned out to be what I like to class as "Paul Every Working on his car" weather. It's something that to this very day, is as sure as eggs is eggs. What on earth does that saying mean exactly?? Anyhow, I'm going off on a tangent again...
So. Old Lancia parked on front lawn of my rented house. New Lancia parked on front lawn of rented house, and one engine hoist rented for the day. No garage. No car port. Nothing. Tied the first car to a tree with a chain and then reversed at speed to pull out all the bent metal work so we could then extract the engine. Queue torrential downpour. Thunder, lightening, gale force winds. It was horrendous. But you know what, we did it. We actually bloody managed it. Hell, the car even started and idled with no problems. I couldn't believe it. Some luck at last. Took the car out for a drive and yes, you guessed it. 60mph and no more. This was probably the first of many times in my life that I considered talking a very long walk off a very short pier, with lead boots, in shark infested waters, with a bleeding nose. Enough was enough and eventually the Lancia (like all Lancias) went to the great scrap heap in the sky. Well not quite the sky. More like the Chichester tip, but it doesn't quite sound as exciting !!
Now by this point, I was working in a 2nd hand car garage and drove and owned quite few cars. My favourite being a bright yellow Triumph Spitfire. 1500cc with O/D. Superb car. We wont mention the night I handbraked it into a ditch backwards whilst racing my mate in his Fiat Uno for obvious humiliation reasons. Car was fine though, which is more than can be said for my passenger who when he thought the car was going to flip (we had the roof down), stuffed his head in my crutch !! I always thought he was gay !
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A year or so later, I got myself a better paid job (Assistant manager of a pub), and took out a small bank loan, and treated myself. I was soon the proud owner of a jet black Vauxhall Astra GTE mkII. It had the fantastic 80's digital dash and everything.
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My car insurance premium was enough to fund a third world country for a decade, but hey, it was quick and at that time in your life, speed is all that matters. That's 0-60 speed and not the "Billy Whizz" type speed. Just for clarification of course. I didn't mod it very much, just the odd extra GTE badge here and there. New headunit etc. My then best mate, Ryan, was killed in a motorcycle accident and I ended up buying his car from his parents. I removed the stereo system from it, and then parted out the rest of his car for spares. The car lasted me very well until one night, 3am in the morning, I had just dropped off my then girlfriend back home, and was driving over an unlit country road that goes right over the top of the downs. Stereo was on loud, and my mind must of been on other things. I went into a right hand bend and as I entered I remember thinking that the car felt strange. I looked down and saw that I was doing about 60mph....round a corner that I had only ever managed to take at 40mph before. I tried as best as I could but there are some things in life that you just cant argue with. Bloody physics !! Gravity is another one too !! Anyhow, much tyre squealing and sphincter tightening later, the car decided it didn't like the look of the direction it was going so decided to swap ends and go backwards insetad.......right down a ditch and through a barbed wire fence !!
Great. So here I am, wondering if there is any chance of being abducted by aliens, on the top of the South downs, in a car firmly wedged under some barbed wire ! Everytime I tried to drive the car out, the sound of the barbed wire over the roof was like metal fingernails down a blackboard !! aarrrggghhhh Half an hour later some car headlights appeared. I flagged down the car but the guy didn't have a tow rope, so he left me in the eerily cold and dark night once again. Another half an hour past and another car turned up. This guy even had a tow rope !!! Now don't get me wrong, I was grateful to get help, but there is something humiliating about having my 2.0 litre Astra GTE being towed out of a ditch by a brown 1.1 Metro !!! The car limped home sounding like a Chieftain Tank as most of my exhaust system had been left behind in the ditch and field, along with wing mirrors and bit of front valence, rear valence and trim. Still, knowing how many cars have crashed on that bend, the cows in that field have probably built themselves their own cow mobile !! Car was sold soon after and I made a mental promise to myself to try and not defy the laws of physics again. Well, in the bedroom maybe, but most definatly not in a car. I didn't quite manage it....
Now picture the scene. I'm 23. I live above the pub I work at full time, and there is no car parking available anywhere as it is a town centre pub. I have no need for a car whatsoever. So, if anyone has actually managed to read this far, and if you have you surely must get out more, please explain why I then went out and spent £10k on a mkIII Vauxhall Astra GSi 16v pre Ecotek version. This had the full 150bhp 2 litre engine.
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I was disappointed if I am honest. Being a 16v as apposed to an 8v as the last one was, it had much less torque and really needed to be revved. That's not how I like to drive, but hey, it was still a great car, and the fact that it held the much coveted spot of "The most stolen car in the UK", means it MUST be good ! After paying for the insurance for me and my girlfriend, I decided that for the same money I could have bought 2 third world country's, fully carpeted them both and taken all the inhabitants out for a night at the West End, and still had change left !! The girlfriend drove the car most of the time which I didn't mind until she turned up one day with the front drivers side corner all smashed up ! Noooooooo! Upon further investigation it was revealed that she had hit "an animal" at about 60mph ! Judging by the clumps of black and white hair wedged into the smashed fog light and wheel rim, it was a badger ! Bloody marvellous. 3 days before a weeks holiday in the New Forest and the car needed to go into the accident repair centre. Driving a 1.2 RN Renault Clio wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Losing 2 years NCB left a bitter taste in my mouth also.
Anyhow, I got the car back and for my birthday, my parents had paid for me to spend a day with the Vauxhall Performance car club at Donnington park. Fantastic. Couldn't wait. Cleaned and polished the car ready for the big day and yup, you guessed, she crashed the car again!!! She rear ended someone when they did an emergency stop due to a fallen power line. Again car into the accident repair centre, last of my NCB destroyed, and I turned up driving my sisters 1.7 Renault 21 Automatic !!!! God it was embarrassing !! Car was sold soon after as there was no way I could afford the insurance with 0 years NCB. For the next 4 years I didn't even own a car. I had no need and most importantly I didn't have the funds. Did wonders for my health. Walking and riding my push bike everywhere meant I was the fittest I have ever been. Hell, I even managed to ride the London to Brighton non stop with no breaks!!! Nowadays I feel light headed just climbing the stairs !
One day during my lunch hour, me and a few work colleagues did our usual and took a walk around the local car auction. It was there I spotted a gleaming red Audi Coupe 2.2 GT It was an automatic but the price was right and I fell in love. It was clearly going to be the closest I would ever get to owning the classic Audi Quattro.
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The bid was placed, I won and that is when my world started to fall apart. I shan't bore you with the details but lets just say the car was the biggest lemon I have ever had the misfortune to own. The previous owner had clearly tarted it up and done some things to the car to get it through the auction and test drive. I had the gearbox go (Porsche gearbox in my particular model), the drive shaft go (It had been filled with grease instead of oil to mask the sound of impending doom), and then one day the engine overheated on the way back from a funeral. I lost almost £3k on that car in less than 12 months by the time I had sold it
Next car on my list was a Mitsubishi FTO.
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Now these cars weren't officially available in this country (see what I mean about never taking the easy option?), so I did what any petrolhead would do. I arranged to import one. I contacted a company specialising in imports and placed my order. A few months past, I was sent pictures of the car in Japan as it was waiting to be loaded onto the boat, and the day it was due to arrive, I was told it wasn't there !! I cant remember the reason, but I do remember kicking up a stink and as such they offered me one of their imports as a hire car for a few weeks while mine arrived. I was expecting a Mazda MX5 as this was their biggest import, but it turned out to be a Mazda RX7 !!!!!!
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Jet black and sporting 20" rims. It had clearly been "played with" by the previous owner but all the import company could tell me was that it was producing over 700bhp and to take it easy !!!! No shit !! A car as light as an RX7, with no traction control whatsoever and over 700bhp??? Needless to say I had some great fun in that car. 100mph on a wet motorway, drop it and floor it and the rear wheels would spin. The thing was mental. The number of cars I overtook while fishtailing up the road was mental.
Everything was fine but on only the 6th day of having it, I made an error of judgement that was to kill the car ! I was driving to work. Minding my own business. Not showing off. Not going fast. Pootling around Chichester at the start of rush hour, and what happened next, still amazes me to this very day. I was approaching a very busy roundabout and as I began to brake for it, I changed down from 5th gear into second in preparation for joining the roundabout. (I rarely used first as the car just didn't need it and with that much power it was all too easy to spin the wheels). I then spotted a gap on the roundabout so while still free wheeling I rolled onto the roundabout. At this point I forgot I had changed down into 2nd and still thinking I was in 4th, gave it some revs and engaged the clutch. Needless to say, being in second at the speed I was doing engaged both turbos and lit the rear wheels up as though I was on an ice rink. I fought to regain control of the car as I fishtailed off the roundabout and up the road but it was no good. Like the French, I was fighting a losing battle. I then just hit the brakes and held on. The car swapped ends, mounted the central reservation, went over the central reservation and deposited me into the path of 2 oncoming cars that both hit me. Great !!
The underside of the car had been ripped from one end to the other and £50 worth of super plus unleaded was gushing down the side of the road. One of the rear wheels had been shattered and my pants needed changing! The phone call I needed to make to the company who's car it was, was about as pleasant as waking up after a fantastic party to find Vanessa Feltz in bed next to you. Naked !!! Needless to say I never got my FTO... I did however, get a letter from Sussex Police inviting me to a) A driver improvement program at my own expense, or b) A court appearance for dangerous driving ! I took the improvement course. See, I do have the odd ounce of logic in my petrol fuelled head.
Now the FTO was out of the question, I was back looking again, albeit with a much smaller budget. It was then I was offered a car I had always loved. A VW Corrado. It wasn't the VR6 version, but a modified G60 version. The owner (colleague from work) was trading it in to buy a TVR. The garage had offered him a very low trade in price so he had attempted to sell it privately. With less than 1 week to go, he still hadn't sold it. He then offered it to me for the same price the garage had offered as he would rather see it go to a mate than a greedy garage. The deal was done and I was the proud owner of a Black Corrado G60 with a private reg of "447 WOO"
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The car was a dream. It was lighter than a VR6 and due to the mods it was almost as powerful. After a short while I found out that even though lots had been done to the engine and supercharger, the ECU had never been touched. I took the car to a Superchips dealer and had a custom chip made. It transformed the car giving my much more torque but also taking my power figure up to 222bhp. The car already had 16" OZ F1's but that was it. I then proceeded to lower the car myself (Thanks dad) and fit new Koni shocks. I Upgraded the brakes and pads. I also sourced a complete leather interior and a small eyebrow strip for the front of the car. I then got Huets car audio to rewire the whole car and fit new speakers and headunit along with a stealth parcel shelf. The car was superb and I loved everything about it.
After having the car for almost 2 years a mate at work was talking about learning to ride a motorbike. Now this was something I had always wanted to do but never actually had the guts to do. I had been badly knocked off my bike when I was a kid (My spine is still bent to this very day) so always thought that I wouldn't get on with biking. But, rather like large ladies, you just don't know until you have a go. I bit the bullet and signed me and my mate (Stuart) up for a free lesson. We both loved it. It was fantastic. We agreed to do a 3 day intensive course and only a few weeks later, we had both past !!!! The hunt was now on for a motorbike.
To be able to afford a good bike, I needed to sell my car. Not a problem, my then girlfriend would buy my Corrado (she had always loved it) and thus I would still get to drive it, as well as have a bike. I sold her the car for a £1k under book price, with the agreement that the £1k's worth of car audio was still mine and also the private number plate would remain mine until she put her own private plate on. "Daddy" had bought her one for her Birthday. With the help of another mate, we sourced a 2 year old Kawasaki ZX6R. I also went and purchased all the boots, trousers, jacket, helmet, gloves etc My love affair with bikes had truly started.
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For 6 glorious months, I loved my bike. Cleaned it all the time. Rode it every day. Clocked up so many miles and just couldn't stop grinning. The feeling of freedom you get on a bike is just amazing. No need to worry about traffic jams. Always get to the front at queues. Stupidly fast and still well over 40mpg. What more does any true petrol head want or need? My bikes life was brought to a rather sudden and unexpected halt though.
I was riding to work one day and as I approached a roundabout, I noticed a Rover 600 approaching the same roundabout from the 1st exit. Knowing I would be well on the roundabout before him, I wasn't too fussed, but the fact it was a Rover and thus most likely driven by some old bloke who got his licence back in the day when we lived in caves, I kept an eye on him. Just as well. Sure enough he pulled out on me. Not a big problem. It would be tight but because I had kept a close eye on him, it wasn't that much of a surprise. I would just go wide and go round behind him. Well that was the plan if the guy had carried on going, but no. Just like those dumb rabbits that get caught in the headlights of you car, just before you send them up to the burrow in the sky, he saw me and froze. Great ! So here am I. Doing 40mph round a roundabout and a huge Rover 600 stops and blocks the road completely.
I tried to change direction and go in front of him but it was too late. I heard a loud crunch and then nothing. I came too a few seconds later and I was flat on my back staring at the sky. As my brain was deciphering what had happened, I decided to lay perfectly still so the driver would think he had killed me. Cruel maybe but hey. Some bloke rushed over to see if I was alright and the first thing I said...the first words that came out of my mouth...not expletives....not I'm going to kill him....no...nothing like that. The first thing I said was "Nice weather for it. It could have been worse. It could have been raining and I could be lying in a puddle" !!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean what??? Blame the knock on my head if you like but to this day I amaze myself with the tripe I come out with at the most inopportune moments. For those of you that think i am picking on Rover drivers, just look closely at the current "Watch out for bikers" advert on telly. What car is the blind fool driving?? I rest my case ! The reason for the accident was the usual blinkered car drivers excuse. "I didn't see you mate". Of course not. Bright sunny day. Not much traffic. My headlight on. My metallic purple and lime green bike, and you didn't see me?? Pilliock !!!
Anyhow, despite suffering severe whiplash injuries from doing a superman impression down the road and landing on my back, some good came from it all. Not only did I make the local newspaper (I caused a traffic jam worthy of being put into print - which my mother still has would you believe - In fact I might dig it out and see If I can scan it in), but the rather large payout I received, not only paid for a 2 year old Kawasaki ZX9R bike, but also a new 32" wide-screen TV, Harmon Kardon digital surround sound amplifier and a Pioneer DVD player !!! Thank you Mr Rover Driver. So now I had a ZX9R in blue. Beautiful.
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At this point I had parted with my girlfriend and thus asked for all my stereo equipment back and also my private numberplate. She advised me that the stereo was part of the car and as such never agreed to letting me have it back. Being the fool I am and feeling bad that I had ended the relationship, I just said OK, keep it all but just let me have my numberplate back. She then came up with some trumped up excuse about me owing her some money (I didn't) and said that if I wanted my numberplate back, she wanted £750 from me. So, not only had I sold her a car £1k under book price, she had also got over £1k worth of ICE and now she was going to keep my £2k private plate !! Woman, you gotta love them. If you don't, Prisons will be even more overcrowded than they are now !!
Now this is where my mad "petrol" gene comes into play. Here I am. The proud owner of a machine capable of 0-60mph in 3.2 secs and with a top speed of over 175mph......and I wanted to mod it. I'd like to point out it wasn't my fault. Honest!! I was spending a lunch hour in my local bike shop and was looking at their second hand bikes. One of them was an identical S reg Kawasaki ZX9R, but this one had a full Akroprovic exhaust system fitted. The salesman started her up and I new their and then I needed one on my bike. A few weeks later I had one. This gave me an extra 20bhp and boy did it transform the bike. In almost every gear it wanted to wheely. It was mental and it made me love the bike even more.
One of my best mates also owned an S reg Kawasaki ZX9R and we decided to visit my uncle in the south of France for our holiday. What followed was one of the best holidays of my life. One week of pure and utter madness. Side by side flat out at 174mph for what seemed like ages on the French autoroutes. Racing a 911 turbo. The mountain roads up to Andorra and then racing some locals back down again. Oh, and there wasn't a single black and white striped top , beret wearing garlic salesman in sight !!! I'd rather not talk about the time I got caught out in a snow storm though. Riding a bike through winter is NOT fun !! Due to financial reasons, the bike was later sold. A vain attempt at me trying to do what parents refer to as "The right thing". The sense of loss was immeasurable and it was only a few months before I cracked.
I bought a brand spanking new Yamaha R1. A long lusted after dream bike. See, I told you I was sensible. This bike made the ZX9 seem like it was from a museum. Not only was it lighter, more powerful and faster, it also just looked fantastic.
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I clocked up almost 10k miles in just over a year. Rode it all through the winter and even had a weeks holiday with my mates at the Nurbergring in Germany !! The holiday was just spectacular. We arrived on a Saturday. Went round "The Ring" on the Sunday and then a track day on the GP circuit only one weekend after the F1 boys had been there. The track itself is amazing and I urge anyone that is mad enough to still be reading this, to go. I never fully felt at ease on the track (They have on average 1 death a month there and most of them are bikers), and the first afternoon we were there, we watched a German biker lose it and throw him and his bike down the track. The 2 guys I went with however felt fully at ease and thus were MUCH quicker than myself. I made it clear to them that if they wanted to go off and do a flying lap, then they only needed to say so and I would sit it out and wait in the car park. However, they forgot this conversation and decided to do a flying lap (we had hidden cameras fitted to the bikes). They shot past me and by the 5th corner I was on my own....on the worlds most dangerous race track. I was furious. I didn't know the track very well (They say you need to do at least 60 laps before you can even start to remember the whole track) and I was well aware my slow pace would hold up other cars and bikes. I therefore spent most of my time watching my rear view mirrors. I had a crazy German Golf driver up my backside at one point that distracted me so much I left the track. Luckily for me it was on one of the few places you can leave the track without kissing ARMCO.
By the time I had got back to the car park, I was livid. I lost it with my mates and even though one apologised, the other one had the attitude of "tough luck". That was it. I was going back to the B&B. The red mist had descended and there was no way I wanted my two "mates" to be anywhere near me. I therefore rode back like a demon possessed. Never before (or since) have I driven that way. It ended up being the best ride of my entire life, albeit dangerous and VERY stupid and at silly speeds. I even got hit on the visor by a pigeon whilst doing over 120mph and I still didn't slow down. Mind you, the feathers inside my helmet and the entrails sliding off my visor didn't help.
This is me on the GP circuit...
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As much as I loved my bikes, not having a car for the winter was bugging me. All my mates were "fair weather" riders and as such it was only me that would have to ride through winter. Stopping every 15 mins then place my hands on the exhaust pipe to defrost them....that kind of thing. After getting side swiped by a car whilst slowly filtering past traffic and ending up with some bumper trim through my foot, my poor mother decided enough was enough. She made me a deal. If I sell the bike and use all the money to pay off what I owed on my credit card, she would buy me a car. Maximum price £5k How could I refuse. As hard as it was to lose the bike, I know it needed to be done. By this point I was a dad to two kids also so a bike just wasn't practical. I will get another one though. They are now in my blood.
I looked and looked and for various reasons decided on a Ford Cougar. As much as I loved the shape (and still do), it was just screaming out for a bit of...ummm...errr.... Paul Every. If that makes any kind of sense. I wont put into words the ups and downs I have had with this car......well....not yet anyway. I will save all that for another day.