My dad used to have a special gift. (He may still have it but it’s a long time since we’ve been shopping together). He could walk into a shop that was so empty that the goods would be dusted to a shine and lined up not only by name, but also by size and colour, and within ten minutes the place would be rammed. (He also had the gift of arriving at the chip shop just as they ran out of chips, but that’s a side issue).
I appear to have the same talent with motorcycle parking. When I started parking here Ruby had the entire bay to herself bar a 125cc Japanese cruiser that appeared to be entirely ornamental judging by the pile of blossoms drifting around the wheels.
Now I have to squeeze in between an array of exotica including a Goldwing and, today, a rather nice Ducati with French plates.
The box on the back is my tipi, which is going back to the importers so they can help me work out why it leaks in the rain. Some people might think this was over-ambitious to strap on the back of a bike, but I have taken lessons from Kevin Ash who once carried a fish tank on the back of his GS. He wasn’t specific about whether it had fish in at the time.