Decisions are not my strong point. I blame my genes – if Scots were supposed to be good at making choices, would we have invented a word like swithering?
I have three bikes. One of them has to go. If I had more money, or more mechanical experience, I could afford to keep all of them. But I don’t. Also come the winter the car will need to go in the garage too, which with current population numbers would require one bike to come and live in the sitting room. I’m not averse to that idea, but I can’t see how to achieve it without knocking a wall down.
So I have hummed, and hawed, and swithered, and nearly sold the Africa Twin to a man who wants to take it to Morocco. But I have been looking at pictures of all the awesome back roads in Australia, which I would like to ride before I get too much older, and the hard fact of life is that if Ruby falls over I can’t pick her up. And she costs 100 quid an hour to service. And no-one says hello when I ride her.
So the game of eeny meeny miny mo is over. As proof of which I offer you this photo. It is the space where the sat nav used to be. No amount of polishing will make her as elegant as others on the market (rather like her owner) but she’s got plenty of adventures left in her.