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#1 toddyboy

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 01:35 pm

Chapter 1.

 

I was speeding home along the A41 after a cracking day at the Ace Café rockers day. I hadn’t been a participant but I loved the atmosphere and some of those old bikes were just awesome. It was a warm May evening and my latest aquisition, a 1997 TDM 850 was running a treat. I’d recently bought it from a dodgy lookin’ dude in Essex. He claimed it had only 14K on the clock which I knew couldn’t be right for a twenty year old hack but I have to say it appeared clean as a whistle in the Gumtree Ad and in fact, after a good look over it I found was even better in the flesh than it was in the pics. A quick blip down the road confirmed that this might just be the genuine article and for £1,300, cash of course, I couldn’t really argue. Riding it sixty or so miles home I could tell the engine was a goodun. It was tight, responsive, full of beans and didn’t miss a beat. When I arrived back safe and sound I was pretty sure I’d copped a bargain.

 

I was only a few months shy of my 60th birthday but on this balmy pre summer evening as I thundered along on this ol’ bike I felt like a teenager again. Flicking it round the roundabouts and blasting off down the straits I had a grin so wide you could have slipped a double decker bus through it.

The weather had been glorious all day but unfortunately as is often the case in the UK, in the distance, dark clouds, which only a few minutes earlier looked like they were skimming the horizon now seemed to be heading my way at an alarming rate. Then again, I only had another ten miles or so to go so didn’t pay them too much notice.

 

As expected, there was a fair bit of traffic to contend with but the conditions were perfect for a jaunt on this ever obliging big twin – at least they were at the moment. I figured that if I gave it some welly I could probably make it back home before I got a proper soaking. Before setting off I’d phoned my missus who’d said there’d be a hot dish of her famous Shepherds pie waiting for me in the oven when I got back. I was getting peckish having not eaten anything since midday so I dropped down into fourth gear and opened her up. This old bike wasn’t the fastest kid on the block but there was plenty of torque on hand, it handled well with the new set of Pirelli Angels I’d had fitted and with that dramatic roar from the Delcevic end can I had to admit this really was a lotta bike for the money.

 

Up ahead more flashes of lightning followed by even louder claps of thunder in an ever darkening sky forewarned me that if I got caught out in this I’d be in real trouble and it was just my luck that I was heading straight for it flat out. It was a game of chicken now - me against Thor’s Hammer and I had no intention of being the nail, so clicking up into fifth and with a sense of renewed urgency I snapped the throttle back and gave it all she’d got.  The bike shimmied a bit, the speedo needle yawed to the right and as it hovered just over 100mph the road ahead began to blur.

 

Spatters of rain began appearing on my visor, not enough to wipe away but an omen of the impending deluge to come. There was a car up ahead, a Beemer by the looks of it and as I prepared to overtake it another flash of lightning, this time a lot closer and much more intense erupted from the sky. I was momentarily blinded. At that very same moment I felt a cold shiver surge through my body. Unable to see properly and shocked by the sudden temperature shift I instinctively shut off the throttle. As my eyes began to focus again I looked down at the speedo which was now dipping just below sixty. That Beemer which had been no more than fifty metres ahead of me had disappeared, but where? He couldn’t have accelerated off that fast could he? I checked my mirrors then looked behind to see if I’d passed him but he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air.

 

I was shivering from head to toe. My first thought was I’d been hit by the lightning and somehow survived! The bike was still running fine though and I was definitely not singed or hurt in any way but the road looked different, and unless I was dreaming it was much narrower. I slowed down to 30mph in an attempt to gather my senses. Something very odd was going on here.  Not only did the road appear to have altered but the storm had gone too. In fact the rain had stopped altogether and there were no clouds in the sky at all.

 

With nowhere safe to pull over and stop I carried on at a steady 50 or so taking note that the road was now completely devoid of traffic. Not a single vehicle anywhere in sight. That was a first, I thought. The A41 was never this clear. But to be honest this didn’t even look like the A41 anymore. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere without realising it? I just couldn’t figure it out. Also, I felt different, lighter somehow and more alert than I’d felt in a long time. Wow! This was nuts. It was as if I’d just skipped the light fandango.

 

The Elstree roundabout was coming up. I changed down a couple of gears, flicked the bike round it and carried on. Then I had a thought. Where actually was the M1? Before you got to this roundabout you went over it but I swear I never went over any bridge. I was about to pull over and check the sat-nav on my phone when I saw headlights in my wing mirror. A couple of bikes were coming up behind me. Jeez, at last – something normal! Moments later they’d caught up and were now cruising alongside me, one behind the other. The lead bike was a classic 5TA in pristine condition. The other was a Bitza by the looks of it, café racer style. Probably on their way back from the Ace café I guessed. I waved but the riders didn’t return the gesture, they just maintained their speed and kept staring at my bike through their goggles. Then they accelerated off and for me, that was it - I dropped a gear and headed after them in hot pursuit. The next section of road was a long straight and I passed them doing ninety, changing up to fifth as I did so and leaving them in the dust.    

  

Satisfied with my ton up prowess I eased off on the throttle and checked my mirrors, noticing that the two classics were way back in the distance then something really weird caught my eye. The Hilton Hotel that had been there since before I could remember simply wasn’t there anymore. Instead, there was a transport café with a lot of bikes outside and people milling around them. I checked the mirrors, grabbed a handful of brake and slowed the bike down to get a better look. Something definitely wasn’t right here. The sign outside the café said BUSY BEE CAFE, but that didn’t make any sense. That place had shut down years ago and a hotel had gone up on the site, yet if my eyes weren’t deceiving me there it was as plain as day.

 

I had to check this out, so I indicated right and zipped across the road. The two classic bikes I’d passed had caught up with me now and followed me in. I could now see there were dozens of old bikes parked up outside the front of the café and as I pulled up on my TDM the gaggle of bikers hanging around all turned to stare at me. They weren’t friendly stares either. I felt like I’d entered a forbidden zone or something. No sooner had I stopped and turned off the ignition I was encircled by them. They were all dressed in black leather jackets, rocker style. For a moment I thought I was in serious trouble. These guys looked spooked and all eyes were on me.

 

The bikes I’d just left for dead up the road pulled up either side of me. Both of the riders also appeared more than a bit agitated.

 

“What the hell is that?” the bloke on the 5TA barked as he removed his helmet and goggles. He was a tall, gangly and unkempt figure with a menacing scowl.

 

I looked at him askance and shrugged. “It’s a TDM,” I replied.

 

“A Tee dee what?” he queried, as he began inspecting my bike in an ultra inquisitive manner.

 

Now of course, as far as I was concerned my old TDM was lovely looking bike but to be honest that was only because it was mine. It was a bit dated now, but I still found it an interesting, cheap and cheerful bulletproof machine and it ticked all the boxes as far as I was concerned. But this character and his posse were more than just interested. They appeared to be genuinely taken aback by it and more than a little confused.

 

I overheard the guy on the Bitza excitedly relaying what had just happened earlier to one of the bystanders – “came past like a rocket it did,” he was saying.

 

“Wot’s a Yamaha when it’s at ‘ome?” another asked, peering inquisitively at the letters on the side of the fuel tank.

 

Something definitely wasn’t right here and I could feel a lump forming in the pit of my stomach. Anyone who rode a bike knew what a Yamaha was. Who were these idiots I thought. But there was more to this than met the eye. All these young guys looked like they’d just come off the set of a James Dean movie and they appeared to not have a clue what a Yamaha or for that matter a TDM was, which was a first in my book. Then there was this café, the Busy Bee, it shouldn’t be here! None of it made any sense.

 

“What is this place?” I asked.

 

“The Busy Bee o’ course, and you’re a long way from ‘ome by the sounds of it, mate” said Mr Gangly. “Where ya from?” he asked.

 

“Watford, I live in Garston, Watford,” I replied.

 

“That’s five miles down the road from ‘ere mate. You sure you ain’t been drinkin’?” said another short stubby guy with a baby face.

 

The rest of the gang all laughed.

 

“Never seen him ‘ere before. Never seen nuffink like that bike either,” said a teenage girl, the only female among them. “Woss your name? she asked.

 

“Tod,” I replied.

 

By now the whole café had emptied out and I found myself surrounded by at least thirty leather clad teenagers all wanting to know what all the commotion was about and all vying for a glimpse of my bike.

 

“Bloody weird helmet you got there mate,” said another young guy, peering inquisitively at my full face flip up HJC helmet.

 

“How fast’s it go then”? the tall gangly guy asked, leaning over to look at the speedo.

 

“Tops out at about 140,” I replied.

 

As if on cue the entire entourage burst out into uncontrollable laughter. I don’t know why but I started to feel a bit queasy. I needed a drink, or something. Jumping off the bike, I made my way through the gawping bunch of Marlon Brando wannabe’s and into the café. A few of them cautiously followed me in but the majority stayed glued to the TDM, talking excitedly amongst themselves. As I stepped inside a jukebox was playing the Everly Brothers. I noticed a Telegraph newspaper on one of the tables. Something about it made me stop and pick it up. It felt crisp and new but it was the content that caught my attention. The headlines read “Bannister breaks four-minute mile. Roger Bannister, a 25-year-old British medical student, has become the first man to run a mile in less than four minutes. His time was 3mins 59.4 seconds, achieved at the Iffley Road track in Oxford and watched by about 3,000 spectators” I looked at the top of the page. The date on it was May 7th1954!

 

I put the paper back down on the table and noticed my hands were shaking. I looked around me. The place was virtually empty. Everyone was outside save an old boy washing some cups behind the counter. The walls were clad with green and cream tiles and there was a mosaic of a bee on one of the walls. What was it that was missing in this picture? Then I realized. It was the lack of technology. No TV, no mobile phones or laptops. Reactively, I reached inside my jacket and pulled out my iPhone. No signal, not even a server. The young girl who’d asked me my name had followed me in and was peering inquisitively at it over my shoulder.

 

“Wossat then Toddy boy?” she asked, seemingly mesmerized by the screensaver.

 

I ignored her comment and quickly pocketed the phone. I was now starting to feel quite sick. “Where’s your toilet mate?” I asked the old boy behind the counter.

 

“It’s outside in the yard young fella,” he said, pointing to the back door.

 

Stumbling out to the toilet, I went to the washbasin, looked in the cracked mirror and then I really got a shock!  Staring back at me was a young guy with a full set of hair. It was me, but it wasn’t me. I looked no more than about eighteen years old. My knees began to buckle under me. I had to grab onto the washbasin to steady myself. What the hell was happening here? I checked my phone again – nothing! Then I puked up. When I finally stumbled outside again that girl was waiting there for me.

 

“You alright Toddy boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.

 

I just stood there looking at her. It took me a few moments to recover my senses then I realized what she was saying. A ghost – Yes, I had seen one. It was me. I was dead. I was sure of it. I’d been hit by lightning during that storm and died on the spot. There was no other explanation for it. The thing was though, I could feel, smell and see everything around me. I pinched my arm hard. It hurt just like it should. Then cautiously, I reached out and touched the young girl’s face. It was soft and smooth and warm – and very real.

 

“What’s your name? I asked.

 

“Ooh cheeky!” she replied with a churlish grin. “I’m Tina. Better be careful though, my boyfriends that tall fella you were talking to out front and he gets real jealous if uvver blokes get fresh wiv me,” she warned.

 

“What year is it?” I asked.

 

“You ‘avin me on Toddyboy?,” she replied.

 

“Just tell me what year it is?” I repeated. The urgency in my voice made her wince a bit.

 

“Well, it’s 1954 o-course. Woss the matter wiv ya. Lost yer marbles or something?” she scoffed.

 

I wasn't in a fit state to banter at that moment though. I was in an intense state of shock. Whatever had happened up the road back there was no small thing, and if I wasn't dead - If this was the real deal - then I'd just been transported back to a time four years before I was even born!

 

 

To be continued ....................................................................................... 

 



#2 curlylegend

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 03:52 pm

Carry on !  Please do.....

 

I was enjoying that.



#3 Muppdog

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 05:53 pm

For God's sake, I read that far. Finish it!

#4 Catteeclan

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 06:27 pm

:good: Please continue.


2002 TDM900 Yellow


#5 SingleCylinder

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 06:54 pm

Waiting...... :tup:


I'm not lazy, just energy efficient...


#6 ramo

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Posted 12 September 2018 - 09:45 am

Come on Toddy,

 

hooked now,

 

or have the drugs worn off?



#7 toddyboy

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Posted 12 September 2018 - 10:12 am

Chapter 2.

 

I was still dazed and confused as I walked back into the Café. The place was empty save for that old boy still washing glasses behind the counter.

 

“They’re all outside gawking at that machine o’ yours,” he said.

 

I peered out through the window. By now there were at least forty people surrounding the TDM. I took a few deep breaths and walked towards the door but the girl grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. “Wossup? I can tell you’re sad about something.”

 

Sad? I didn't know what I was feeling actually. So many things were whirling through my head. The only connection with this pseudo reality I found myself encapsulated in was this petulant little bird standing next to me. I reached out and touched her face again, just to make sure she was real. She gave me a coy smile. She seemed to enjoy the attention.

 

“See! There you go. Life’s not so bad is it,” she said swiping my jacket gently with her hand.

 

This little bird had dark green eyes, pert lips, and under that leather jacket she had other pert other things as well. Then it began to dawn on me that somehow, someway, based on the reflection that I’d seen in that broken mirror in the bathroom that I must be about the same age as her. I also realized I had a hard on. I’d need to watch myself here, I mused. Not only was she that guy outside's girlfriend but I was also hornier than I'd felt in a long time. Anyway, better not dwell on that I thought or I’d be for it if my missus found out I was flirting with a teenage biker babe at the Busy Bee Cafe. Then another thought crossed my mind; my missus didn’t even exist yet. She wouldn’t even be born for another fifteen years! This was definitely a bizarre turn of events. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this mess?

 

Somehow, someway, me and my trusty steed had been catapulted back into the mid-fifties and not only that, forty years or so had been shaved off my age in the bargain. To be honest, there was a part of me, the bonkers part that is, that got a bit of a kick out of that. The other part, the sensible side of me, was wondering if I’d ever get back to my own time and if I’d ever see my wife, kids and grandchildren again. With that conundrum sloshing about in my head I steeled myself and walked outside.

 

There was an excited buzz in the air. The TDM was the star attraction of course. Not surprising really. Japanese bikes were unheard of in England in 1954 let alone something as technically advanced and radical looking as this. It would probably be another two decades or more before it was even a twinkle in its designer’s eye and as I approached the motley crew of bikers surrounding it an uneasy silence descended and they parted to let me through. I figured that if this was a dream I’d wake up soon enough, so while I was in it I might as well have some fun. I pulled the keys out of my pocket and straddled the bike.

 

“Who’s up for a race then?” I asked.

 

That broke the ice! With no further encouragement needed a dozen or so wannabe racers made for their bikes and moments later the air was filled with the roar of British twins and singles thumping into life.

 

I donned my helmet, flicked the ignition key on and pressed the starter button. That alone caused a sensation amongst those watching. Electric start on a motorbike! Holy shit! The big twin fired up. Clicking it into first gear I spun the bike round and faced the entrance to the road.

 

Mr Gangly pulled up alongside me on his Triumph and pointed up the road. “Up to the Elstree roundabout and back again,” he yelled over the noise of his revving engine, and with that he was off.

 

A few others followed hot on his heels. I waited a few seconds then I let her rip. Within a few seconds I was into third and tearing past them. By the time I’d reached the roundabout they were several seconds behind me. Leaning her over as far as I dared I got safely round and was heading back before any of them had even reached it and I almost popped a wheelie as I roared past them going in the opposite direction. Then I hammered the TDM down the straight towards the Bee. I must have hit 130 at full tilt. By the time they’d all arrived back I was standing by my bike, helmet off and tapping my toes.

 

Mr Gangly got off his bike and walked over to me. As he did so Tina sidled up and hooked her arm around his. She was his girlfriend but I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she had other ideas about that.

 

“Jed’s the name,” he said holding out his hand.

 

“Tod. Nice to meet you Jed,” I replied, and shook his hand.

 

Apparently, I’d set the fastest time on record for what they called “looping the loop” i.e. making it to the Elstree roundabout and back. After that I was considered one of the boys and I spent the next half hour or so fending off questions about the TDM such as “What cc is it?” – How come it’s so quick?” - “Why’s it’s got all that plastic on it?” – “How come it’s got no kickstart lever?” – “What exactly is a Yamaha?” etc. etc. They wanted to know all about me and what I was wearing too, where I got my weird looking helmet and how they could get one? Where I lived? all that kind of stuff but as you can imagine  I was a bit stumped there. What was I going to say? ‘Oh, I was hit by a bolt of lightning and was transported here from the future and oh by the way, I’m not actually even born yet.’ That’d go down well wouldn’t it! So I lied. I told them I was a road tester for a new motorbike company. I didn’t let on that the TDM was Japanese. I figured that might not be too well received seeing as the Second World War had only ended a few years back. It wasn’t exactly a very watertight story but it would do for now and they seemed to accept it.

 

During all this excitement I'd forgotten that I was a mere mortal. My stomach was rumbling. I’d puked up everything I had in the bog and this time warp shit was energy sapping. I needed some grub so I ordered a burger and chips but he didn't know what a burger was so I ordered a bacon butty. When I pulled out a tenner and gave it to the old boy behind the counter he just looked at it and scowled, muttering something about Monopoly money. Then I realized, of course my money was no good here. It was way ahead of its time. I quickly snatched the note back before he had time to get a good look at it and was trying to figure out what to say next when Tina came to my rescue. She paid for the food. It cost sixpence! She said I could pay her back later. When I sat down to eat it she sat next to me and as I scoffed down the food she just sat there looking at me.

 

“Where you really from, Tod?” she said.

 

I stopped eating and just gawped at her. She knew I'd been telling porkies to the guys out there. This girl was obviously fascinated by me, by my bike and the fact that it was quirkier and quicker than anything anyone had ever seen before but she was also a woman, and women know when a bloke’s lying through his teeth.

 

“You really want to know?” I replied hesitantly.

 

“Yeah, I really do,” she said.

 

I took my attention off her for a moment and looked around me. It was getting late and the Café was emptying out. Bikes were firing up and heading off into the night. The motley crew (that was my nickname for this gaggle of teenage bikers) were a friendly bunch and a few of them said their goodbyes to me as they left, many of them asking if I’d be here tomorrow, but I was in a quandary. What exactly was tomorrow? That would be over forty years ago by rights! I shouldn’t even be here at all and not only that, this girl sitting next to me knew it! She knew there was something odd going on, which of course there was and then I had another daunting concept to ponder. I had no money, well no money that would be accepted here and to make matters worse no home to go to either. If my memory served me right my house hadn’t even been built yet. I was a lost soul in a strange world that once was.

 

Tina jolted out of my reverie.

 

“So you gonna tell me then or what?” she asked.

 

I looked up and for a moment I was mesmerized by those inquisitive sparkling green eyes staring back at me. How the hell was I going to explain to her that I’d come back from the future and that I was really 59 years old with a wife, four kids and two grandchildren?

 

“Well?” she urged.

 

I was about to open my mouth when there was a commotion at the entrance door and Jed rushed in with a worried look on his face. “Oi Tod, there’s a couple of Rozzers outside eyeing up your bike,” he warned.

 

 

To be continued ………………………….


Edited by toddyboy, 12 September 2018 - 10:22 am.


#8 curlylegend

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Posted 12 September 2018 - 10:21 am

That's pretty well written, actually.

 

OK, so how's Tod going to cope with Dixon of Dock Green and the Laughing Policeman.....?



#9 Robodene

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Posted 12 September 2018 - 01:49 pm

I was there... well 3 or 4 miles away then! I rode those roads. Don't remember you. More please.
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#10 toddyboy

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Posted 12 September 2018 - 04:46 pm

I was there... well 3 or 4 miles away then! I rode those roads. Don't remember you. More please.

Think hard Rob. It was 1954. A long long time ago in a cafe far away .............

 

Chapter 3

 

Cops! That’s all I needed. I immediately jumped up off my chair and hotfooted it outside.  A black Humber with a big blue light on the top was parked next to my bike and one of them was shining a torch on the back of it. There were two of them.The other one, a big burly guy with a beard was scrutinizing the engine. Then I realized what they were interested in – the bloody number plate! It was of course yellow with black lettering. All the plates on the other bikes had black backgrounds with white or silver lettering. Obviously the one on my bike wouldn’t make sense to them.

 

The copper with the torch shone it in my face as I approached him. “Evening officers. Can I help you?” I asked holding my hand up in front of my face to shield my eyes from the glare.

 

“This your bike son?” the bigger one asked.

 

“It is yeah. Is there a problem?” I replied.

 

“Strange registration plate,” he said.

 

I was stumped. I had to think quick. “Oh, er, it’s a Gibralter plate,” I lied.” My heart was pumping fast now. I knew that cops of this era didn’t have the technical backup from my day. No DVLA computers, mobile phones or anything like that. It was the only thing I could think of at that very moment.

 

The big bearded cop looked over at his partner who raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say ‘aint got a clue.’

 

“Gibraltar eh! Long way from home aren’t you sonny?” he probed. He was one of those seasoned cops, with a perpetual air of suspicion. “Odd looking bike too. Never seen one of these around have you Pete”? he asked his mate.

 

His partner Pete just nodded obliquely. He obviously had no knowledge of what a Gibraltar number plate looked like and also didn’t appear too interested in bikes at all. I was hoping Officer big beard was going to be of the same inclination but unfortunately he wasn’t. “Got any documentation on you son?” he asked.

 

Oh shit, now I was for it.

 

At that very moment the radio in the police car crackled. I caught some of it - something about an RTA in Hendon. Pete took the call and beckoned to my interrogator. Apparently they were being ordered to attend the accident. Big beard’s inquisitive demeanour changed immediately and to my utter relief he dropped his line of questioning. “Have a safe trip home son,” he said as he walked away. Then the two cops jumped into their Humber and sped off.

 

As I watched the blue flashing lights disappear into the night I breathed a sigh of relief. That could have been a lot more complicated.

 

“So you’re from Gibraltar eh?” said Tina, hands on hips. “You’re fulla surprises you are Toddyboy.”

 

I didn’t confirm it but I didn’t deny it either.

 

Jed had also been listening in on my banter with the cops. “Where’s Gibraltar then?” he asked. He was obviously not the brightest kid in the class this guy.

 

“Southern Spain,” I replied.

 

A faint smirk of disbelief crossed his lips but it was tinged with a look of respect. “Bloody ‘ell. You come all that way on that bike?” he exclaimed.

 

“I’ve come a very long way, mate,” I replied.

 

“Hats off to you mate. Well, I’m off,” said Jed looking at Tina as if to say 'are you coming too?'

 

Tina declined, telling him she had to go home so he took her aside, gave her a snog then roared off into the night on his 5TA with a couple of his mates.

 

“You really from Gibralter?” she asked.

 

I didn’t want to lie but the concept of telling her the truth just didn’t seem logical right then and there. I decided to sidetrack the conversation. “Actually, I’m tired Tina. I need to get some sleep. It’s been a really long day,” I said.

 

“Oh! Where are you staying?,” she asked inquisitively.

 

Jesus! Did this bird ever stop asking awkward questions! Then again I thought to myself, where was I going to stay?

 

Again, Tina had me on the hop, but again she came to my rescue. “If you like you can stay at my place. It’s just me and me Mum live there. My dad left years ago. You can sleep on the sofa.

 

I had to think about it for a moment. My house, my wife, my family didn’t even exist yet. I was stranded in a time before I was even born yet the environment around me was vaguely familiar. How was I going to get back to reality? What would I do if I couldn’t? It was all too much to contemplate right now. I needed time to figure it all out and more than anything I needed sleep. I was bushed. This girl was the only person who was willing to help me. I had no choice but to follow her lead and take things as they came.

 

“I can’t ride this bike with this number plate on it though,” I said, gesturing towards the fluorescent yellow plate on the back of the TDM.

 

Tina smiled, zipped open her leather jacket, and pulled out a screwdriver from the inside breast pocket. “We’ll have to change it for my one then,” she replied. Her bike was a Matchless 250. Within a few minutes she’d removed the rear number plate and replaced mine with it.

 

“I’ll leave my bike here for tonight. Old Joe will look after it for me,” she said. Joe was the proprietor of the place apparently. “I’ll ride pillion with you!”

 

There wasn’t much else I could do or say about that, so without further ado Tina donned her helmet and jumped on the back of the TDM. “I live near Hunton Bridge in Abbotts Langley,” she said, pointing West. "Are you coming or do I have to ride this thing myself?"

 

I knew where Hunton Bridge was. I’d messed around there when I was a kid, so I cocked my leg over the saddle, fired the bike up and with my little temptress's hands wrapped round my body I headed off into the night wondering to myself where all this was going to end.

 

To be continued ………………………………………….



#11 PICARD

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Posted 13 September 2018 - 07:17 am

Carefull Tod. The pill's not invented and johnnies are made from dunlop innertubes!! Nice one.
Lock onto my co-ordinates and beam me up !!

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#12 dablik

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Posted 13 September 2018 - 08:17 am

Nice one Tod, dont need a video to accompany the next chapter though :D crack on matey  :good: 


Bigred mk1 R1 Calipers- Braided lines- Givi wing rack-Crash bungs- Hi vis bullets-PR2's- and a hoot to ride.

Quad 900 Silver Laser duo tech pipes-Scott oiler-Engine crash bars- Radiator mounted see me ring LED's-Datatool system 3 alarm -Centre stand- Extender fender-Renthal bars-Handle bar risers-Mirror extenders-BMW GS Handgaurds-Acumen uprated horn & Nautilus-Stainless steel Radiator guard-Givi wing rack-OEM screen-Yammy touring screen-MRA Vario-MRA Double bubble cut down for fast as fk riding-Tiger screen-Tank protector-Stomp grip panels-Optimate lead

 

1991 MK1 in need of some TLC watch this space  :) Sorted and on the Road Mick :P :P it's the bike that Jack built ;)


#13 curlylegend

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Posted 13 September 2018 - 09:50 am

I just hope lewd and libidinous actions aren't forthcoming.......although I don't see how they can be avoided ?



#14 toddyboy

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Posted 15 September 2018 - 10:21 am

 Chapter 4:

 

I caught a glimpse in my wing mirror of a car coming up behind me. My heart skipped a beat as blue lights flashed and a siren wailed. Shit. Cops again! I slowed down as the car came up alongside. The younger cop in the passenger side was motioning with his hand for me to pull over. The game was up. They’d rumbled my Gibraltar ruse and now there was no way I was getting away with my story this time, not with a false number plate on the back.

 

I slowed the bike down and stopped. I hit the kill switch but remained seated on the bike. I felt Tina tense as she prepared to get off the back but I told her to stay where she was.

The police car pulled up about ten metres ahead and the two cops got out of their car and began walking towards us. At that same moment I became aware of a dark blue van pulling up and stopping behind us. I heard sound of a sliding door being pulled open and then a heavy set guy in blue overalls got out and started walking purposefully our way.

 

Something didn’t feel right. There was some sort of collusion between this guy behind and the cops, as if they knew each other.

 

The big cop with the beard seemed to sense my concern and I noticed his eyes dart furtively to the man walking up behind us.

 

Something was about to happen here and by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be a routine traffic stop. In a split second decision I flicked the kill switch to on, stabbed the starter button and the engine roared into life. I grabbed the clutch lever, clicked into first gear and gave it a fistful of throttle. The bike surged forward.

 

The cops jumped sideways as I gunned it straight at them but the bigger one tried to grab hold of me as I shot passed him. I managed to parry his lunge but he grabbed hold of my jacket. I pulled away but with him still hanging onto me and trying to pull me off. Tina lashed out with her right boot and landed one right in his midriff causing him to lose his grip. He lost his balance, toppled sideways and fell.

 

I blasted off down the road with my jacket arm half torn off and with Tina hanging on for dear life. I had no time to think straight. We’d evaded arrest but what the hell was that all about and who the hell was that guy in the van?

 

I hadn’t even got into fourth gear when suddenly the engine spluttered, went onto one cylinder and then stopped altogether. Oh no! Please No! I stabbed the starter button but it wouldn’t fire. Jesus! I glanced in the rear view mirror to see the police car now in hot pursuit with its light flashing and siren wailing. We weren’t far ahead of them. They’d be on us in moments. Then I realized what was wrong. The bike had run out of bloody petrol! Hold on, no it hadn’t – It had a manual reserve. I reached down and fiddled to find the petrol stopcock. I twisted it upward and thumbed the starter again. The engine cranked over, then it spluttered, backfired once, and then, thank God it roared into life.

 

I looked behind. The cop car was gaining speed. Slamming it into first I tore off down the road again. The two into one exhaust barked and the rev counter topped out as we surged into the night. When I looked back the car was still not far behind us but was losing ground. Shit! That was close. Whatever I did, I had to get these cops off our tail. I dropped down a gear and gunned it. Hedgerows whooshed past either side like storm-clouds as I flicked the bike through the bends up an incline. Thank fuck I’d fitted Pirelli Angels I thought.

 

Reaching the crest of a hill on full chat, the front wheel came off the ground and it was all I could do to keep the bike in a straight line as it wheelied down the other side. There was a long straight that went on for about half a mile ahead. Twisting the throttle to the stop I blasted down it.

 

I looked back. The cop car was receding in the distance. Thank fuck for that but as I looked round ahead of me, I saw more blue lights. It was another cop car coming our way at high speed. Then to my utter horror it veered across the road and headed straight for us!

 

I slammed on the brakes. The forks nosedived and the violent inertia threw both of us forward. I managed to hold onto the bars with Tina still scrambling on my back but then the back wheel slid out sideways. I couldn’t hold it. The bike went over. We were going to hit the car head on.

 

Tina screamed as she slipped off the side pulling my arm as she fell ………………………………

 

Something was tugging at my shoulder. “Toddyboy, wake up!”

 

I opened my eyes and there was Tina was staring down at me. I flinched and pulled back.

 

“You’ve been making strange noises in yer sleep,” she said. “Here I brought you a cuppa.”

 

I sat up and looked around me. I was in a small sitting room perched on an old sofa that by the looks of it I’d slept on.

“How did I get here?” I muttered.

 

Tina looked at me a bit strange. “You rode here on your bike with me on the back, remember?”

 

 

To be continued ..............................................................


Edited by toddyboy, 15 September 2018 - 10:40 am.


#15 Hombre

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Posted 17 September 2018 - 10:07 am

Dad?


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#16 Riggers

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Posted 19 September 2018 - 06:35 pm

It's like waiting for the next episode of Bodyguard!  :lol: .



#17 Robodene

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Posted 19 September 2018 - 06:47 pm

But is there one.....?
1940s Ariel 350 (ex-military) Khaki > Black & White '56' Kymco Venox 250 Metallic Grey '56' TDM 900/A (ABS) Silver[b] '56' Yamaha MT-03 White <p>[b] '14' Yamaha MT-07 Matt Grey[b] '17' Honda Rebel 500 

#18 poppykle

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Posted 20 September 2018 - 12:39 am

Come on toddyboy, you can't leave us hanging like that!



#19 toddyboy

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Posted 20 September 2018 - 09:53 am

Sorry guys, I went out trail riding in Malaga with my younger (and much fitter) son in law and his mate. Buggered my neck up when I shimmied down a steep incline on a 250 Fantic Enduro that wasn't really set up for me, and didn't quite make it. Fortunately a bit of crick and crack from a good Chiro and several massages later and I'm back to normal again (almost)

 

Now, where was I --- oh yeah, just N/W of London in 1954 ----- WTF! How did I get there?

 

To be continued shortly .............................................



#20 muddy

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Posted 20 September 2018 - 06:33 pm

Seems to me all the important bits seem to work to order and with better efficiency in the past :-/
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