Sometimes life throws you little curveballs to make life interesting. Its at times like this that life also gives you the chance to gamble and well, today I gambled and I lost ladies and gentlemen.
I woke up this morning at the usual ungodly hour, got my kit on, grabbed my keys and went to get my bike. I was intending on taking the Monster, but when I tried to turn the alarm off, the rear indicators didn't flash to indicate that the alarm was inactive. A little strange I thought, so I tried again. Still nothing. It was then that I looked at the keys in my hand and realised that these were the keys for the 1098. I really couldn't be bothered going back inside, it wasn't raining and there was no salt on the ground. Superbike it is then. As it was warming up, the fuel light came on....can you see where this is going? Anyway, on the way into work, I had plenty of opportunities to fill up, but felt I had enough in the tank to get me to work and then back out the mile or so to the nearest garage on the way home. The fuel gauge was saying I'd covered 7miles. So there I am, half a mile from work. HALF A BLOODY MILE and the bike cuts out. Clearly there was a lot lot less fuel on board than I had originally thought. Bugger. I look at my watch and its 04:40.
I call work and it cheers the overnight editor up no end and not really wanting to leave my pride on joy on the street I decide to push it to the nearest petrol station, which was thankfully, downhill. After half a mile of this (the opposite way to work I may add) my body was stuffed, especially my arms, hands and back. I could see the petrol station in the distance, so as I was worried I was going to drop the bike, I parked it up on the pavement and wandered down.
I found the attendant sweeping the forecourt and although there was a slight language barrier, I explained that I needed fuel and that I really didn't want to have to buy a fuel can, just to throw it away simply as I couldn't carry it any distance on the bike.
'No problem' he says and he pops into the office and comes back with a plastic fuel can full of Shell's finest unleaded. I gave him £20 as a deposit and walked briskly back to the bike, which was thankfully still there. I was able to get the vast majority of the fuel in and with the now empty can resting under my screen, I rode gently back to the garage. I returned the can and got a tenner back, which all things considered, I was actually quite pleased with.
I finally got to work at 05:30, 45mins late having one of the most 'interesting' journeys for a long, long time.
This is the third time I've run out of fuel with this bike. Twice on the road and once on track. I must remember to not let it happen again. A real school boy error.
I woke up this morning at the usual ungodly hour, got my kit on, grabbed my keys and went to get my bike. I was intending on taking the Monster, but when I tried to turn the alarm off, the rear indicators didn't flash to indicate that the alarm was inactive. A little strange I thought, so I tried again. Still nothing. It was then that I looked at the keys in my hand and realised that these were the keys for the 1098. I really couldn't be bothered going back inside, it wasn't raining and there was no salt on the ground. Superbike it is then. As it was warming up, the fuel light came on....can you see where this is going? Anyway, on the way into work, I had plenty of opportunities to fill up, but felt I had enough in the tank to get me to work and then back out the mile or so to the nearest garage on the way home. The fuel gauge was saying I'd covered 7miles. So there I am, half a mile from work. HALF A BLOODY MILE and the bike cuts out. Clearly there was a lot lot less fuel on board than I had originally thought. Bugger. I look at my watch and its 04:40.
I call work and it cheers the overnight editor up no end and not really wanting to leave my pride on joy on the street I decide to push it to the nearest petrol station, which was thankfully, downhill. After half a mile of this (the opposite way to work I may add) my body was stuffed, especially my arms, hands and back. I could see the petrol station in the distance, so as I was worried I was going to drop the bike, I parked it up on the pavement and wandered down.
I found the attendant sweeping the forecourt and although there was a slight language barrier, I explained that I needed fuel and that I really didn't want to have to buy a fuel can, just to throw it away simply as I couldn't carry it any distance on the bike.
'No problem' he says and he pops into the office and comes back with a plastic fuel can full of Shell's finest unleaded. I gave him £20 as a deposit and walked briskly back to the bike, which was thankfully still there. I was able to get the vast majority of the fuel in and with the now empty can resting under my screen, I rode gently back to the garage. I returned the can and got a tenner back, which all things considered, I was actually quite pleased with.
I finally got to work at 05:30, 45mins late having one of the most 'interesting' journeys for a long, long time.
This is the third time I've run out of fuel with this bike. Twice on the road and once on track. I must remember to not let it happen again. A real school boy error.
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