Yesterday we skeedaddled up to Birmingham to the Motorcycle show and see the latest on two wheels. I have a terrible conscience about encouraging the boy and his interest in bikes, but hopefully when he sees me fall off and hurt myself he will see the folly of my ways and decide not to tread in my footsteps. Naturally I don't regard buying him a copy of Nick Sanders book about riding round the world is in any way encouragement. Umm
Of course there were lots of exciting things to see and do. We tried out all the bikes for size...so I know that you need to be a chimpanzee to ride a Harley, and a midget to ride a Buell, unless you get the long wheel base version! The boy seems to favour shiny new Chinese bikes...which I think is sensible since they will dominate his world, and we both loved the Triumphs. We giggled over the sign on the Chinese bike which warned us not be touched on the muffler..something everyparent should teach their offspring.
I'm still saving for my KTM, although was distracted by the thought of a Royal Enfield, which is little changed after fifty years, though these days enjoys a made in India tag.
We agreed that we would get two bikes and ride them to see Grandma in Cyprus. How we reconcile that with our agreement that the boy will not have a bike until he's 25, I do not know.
Disappointingly, neither of us enjoyed the promotional girls...all of whom looked erm well err rough and not in a good way. I think I did the right thing at least in saying to the boy that if he was going to look at them to not do it furtively...better to have these thing in the open.
And finally (depending on how Blogger decides to layout the blog...I just don't know how to get things positioned at certain points in the text...) the most exciting thing EVER was the Wall of Death. Noisy, smelly, fast and furious. And enough to scare the living daylights out of the four year old standing next to us.
