An amazing thing happened the other week; I managed to take some advice. So this evening was spent in a middle school in northwest Austin. I was being taught the basics of motorcycle riding. Such nuggets of wisdom as,
“Sports bikes are very pretty bikes.”
“Instead of four wheels you have two.”
“We’re all suffering from motorcycle mania here.”
were imparted to my spongelike brain. Despite having ridden 2000 miles in the last three weeks, I am being shown where the front brake lever is on a motorcycle. If I can keep sucking up to the elfin Kathy and pass my Saturday and Sunday tests, I get to ride legally without a helmet without paying a 700 dollar bodily injury insurance premium for the privilege. Of course, I still am supposed to have liability insurance, but that’s another issue. Insurance is evil.
I need new material
So I’m sitting at the front of the class, keen to catch all of the informative morsels of knowledge that fall from Kathy’s mouth. A late-comer arrives and sits next to me, and Kathy gives us five minutes to find out about the person next to each of us so that we can introduce them to the class. The late-comer, Pip, looked rather more cynical than I did about this exercise. He was immaculately groomed, stylishly attired, and lent a posh English accent to the affair. We chatted for a few minutes, and it was bizarre.
I asked Pip where he was from, he said East Texas. Very East. That’s my line.
He was from Nottingham, as I am – he grew up in a small district called Bramcote where I lived for a while, and where I visited my grandparents two months ago.
He went on a motorbike tour of Europe on a Yamaha Super Tenere. I went through Europe to Africa on my Tenere.
He climbed Mont Blanc via Mont Blanc du Tacul, and cycled to it from Nottingham and back again. I climbed Mont Blanc du Tacul and cycled back to Nottingham from it.
He lives in Austin. I live in Austin, after a fashion.
He had signed up to take a basic motorcycle training course with Moto Fun on the same days as I.
WTF Mate? What are the chances eh? I suppose when I talk to him this weekend, he’ll turn out to have lived on the same deserted island off Borneo that I lived on too. Where’s my unique selling points now, dammit?