If the prophecies of old wives tales are true, I am heading for a major financial injection tonight. This morning after finishing my coffee at Worcester (on my 30-mile loop) I'd just put on my helmet when SPLAT!! - the Bluebird (or whatever) of happiness decided to anoint me with love. All down the side of my helmet, lustrously polished 2011 tank, sidecovers, clutch housing, AND the sleeve of my Repsol jacket which became 'Rep-soiled'. Since rectified this exclamation of excrement, but only after realising that the offending bird must have had bowels the size of a Jewsons One Cubic Metre industrial landscaping bag. Given that I am a regular Wednesday night Lotto entrant, I've already set my sights on the Ducati Speciale: https://www.motorcyclenews.com/bike-reviews/ducati/v4-speciale/2018/ AND the trick BMW: https://www.bmw-motorrad.co.uk/en/models/sport/hp4race.html AND, for good measure to show my real allegiance:
No word from Lotto, so pay no attention to the above. I guess I was talking more shit than was dumped on me.
I was passing Milton Keynes a couple a years back when all of sudden I saw a brown cloud of something coming towards me splatters all over my visor, in the vents, over the leathers, all over the blade on the boots and as it hit I felt like I was being repeatedly shot by a pellet gun. Thought some f****** so and so threw some strange drinking concoction out their car window. Quickly wiped my visor looking at who’s winding their window up and then the smell just come in, I was about to heave in my helmet. Pulled in to Newport Pagnell Services, everyone steering at me, assessed the damage and believe me that could not of been no ordinary bird. Must of been a crew of the bleeping flying filthy bleeping seagulls or something of. Maybe they don’t like hondas so targeted me! Looked like someone filled a plasters bucket and unloaded it on me. My arm was sore from where I was shot with the seeds being unloaded on me. Now after spending an hour cleaning that shit of me in a service station, not for one moment did I think I was going to win the lottery that night! So Nigel count yourself lucky it was just a bit and not a bucket load of shit
Of course I sympathise with your plight, but in the final analysis I think I am just more optimistic than you - or, a total friggin' dreamer!
I got dumped on by a Heron once. I'd just visited my old fella in hospital and decided to hit the country lanes on the way home. I saw something splatter on the roof of the car in front and before I could do anything it hit me. It was like a wall of emulsion. It literally started at the front of the bike and went the entire length, covering me in the process. It was also one of the rare days I'd decided to wear jeans with my leather jacket. Stinking fish that'd passed through the guts of a 2 foot tall flying bastard went through me to the boxers. I was on my way to the girlfriends and had to strip butt naked in the kitchen and bin bag my clothes. She had to get in the shower to make sure I was properly clean.
Fortunate decision. Saved the Dainese! Such devotion. Sounds like a keeper. I hope you married her. If not, perhaps you could pass on her number?
Aha. I've got your form. Each subsequent weekend you went out hunting for flocks of birds just to be dumped upon. Of course the rewards were the showers and they helped cement the relationship. Congrats to Mrs Dainese. The other point that comes to mind with all that bird crap all over the joint, is THE explanation of why you change bikes each 12 months.
Yes. From here: https://www.londonleathers.co.uk/honda-racing/honda-repsol-gas-replica-leather-jacket?page=2
I have my leather Repsol jacket and gloves that do not fit me anymore. It became too big as I became smaller.
