Wavy lines and suddenly it is 1995 again
A month before I headed off to University to study drinking and girls, I headed out on the road with a good friend, on a motorcycle tour of the Southwest.

Highlights included crossing a super deep river channel on a floating bridge and looking up at tankers that were just parked there. Falling asleep on a garage forecourt and sleeping in my leathers for three hours in burning hot sunshine, it was like sleeping in a sauna and was lovely. The low flying plane on Bodmin Moor that felt like it could have touched us as it flew over our tent was amazing.

However, it was the last long day of the trip and I was starting to feel the effects of not having been for a poo for four days. I can't tell you why this was the case, I had just not managed to squeeze one out. Suddenly my tummy started to growl and I knew that it was going to be a biggy. So I made my gentle way over to the bushes away from our tent and settled down for a Squat and drop. It was hellish, a back log of road food and bad Ginsters pies. The resultant puddle of semi liquid toxic waste was still growing as a Landrover pulled up next to me. Two local Cornish farmers were sat in their landy, laughing at the very embarrassed biker squatting in the bracken. Have you ever had a conversation about biking with two strangers while your naked bottom pours forth vile toxic filth? I did that morning.

I managed to clean myself up and head back to the tent, the Landy had stopped next to our tent to have a chat with my friend while I was finishing and the bemused look I got when I arrived back at the tent said it all. The rest of our trip continued and ended at a rally where a Black Sabbath tribute band blew us away with Iron Man, but that is another story.
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Sun 17 Jul 2011, 9:16, Reply)