The Cheater Cheated!
Thanks for the friendly invite as a new'en Dave.
Having just bought an AT in Northern Germany, I left behind some slightly concerned, but moreover disbelieving German chums and rode it back to the UK one Saturday recently.
I have tell you, I was delighted with the handling and ease with which my XRV and I overcame the campaign of Northern Europe. Especially when a snow and storm caught us, restricting the Autobahn to one lane, requiring decisive manoeuvres to overcome a few determined Deutscher Volk, and at one point sand spitting snow ploughs on both flanks. Not even the violent Dutch winds shook us. My new friend and I were soon both happy adopting a 20 degree list to port, whilst maintaining a steady 130 km/h.
I think that I should mention at this point, that my biking experience prior to the trip, has been Sunny Sundays on my first, and only other bike, a self restored '54 Velocette Viper - I'd heard that, first love never dies, but my head was turned.
Rolling onto the ferry at Hook Van Holland for the overnighter, found me, after a few whiskeys and a round or two of black jack, sleeping and dreaming of my our beautiful future.
UK and 6am with clear blue sky edged with red and gold, bought a victorious grin on the road home to Sevenoaks and the end to a perfect beginning.
I'm sure that you can imagine my new love affair left me uneasy about the return to the shining black viper who lives in the kitchen? With guilt I remembered the old Frau, doing her best with her looks at over 50, but also the high maintenance, her stubborn belligerence, the fights and the harsh words. On entering the room my head hung as I noticed, again, a puddle of oil on the kitchen floor. Oh.
So with self forgiving from the justification of reliability, practicality and not wishing to regularly pollute with noise and oil, I set to, to master the characteristics of the new machine in Kent.
But what's this? Rolling the XRV from the garage and looking forward to a sweet simple turn of the key, instead of knee crunching, foot breaking multiple kick starts before giving up and finding the nearest slope, the AT turns over but doesn't fire! Again and again nothing, in desperation I head to the nearest hill which only ends only in a humiliating monster push, to get the bike back up the hill to the house.
After much trashing in disbelief, hunting down of self help websites (www.xrv.org.uk) I attempt to resolve our differences. Eventually with a feeling not dissimilar to childhood Christmas' in unwrapping the AT by pulling off layers of plastic body I find she has indeed both good spark and ample fuel at her pumping heart, choke cable seems to be new and free. I’m getting desperate.
Last night was terrible - a dream of disfigurement, a Velocette with, red, white and blue body parts and twin headlights, the early days of plastic surgery?? It's too ugly to talk about.
Can anyone help before I am tempted back to the old girl indoors?



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