Faaaaa'mers.
Posted: Wed Aug 20, 2008 1:05 pm
Fuckers.
Now I know, living out here in the West Country (Ooh Arrr) I ought to expect mud on the more rural roads, and as such put up with it, as there are a lot of fields out here around me, and a lot of farmers tending them.
But then wait. Why should I put up with it? I nearly killed myself the other morning, when it was slashing it down a good'nn, and I suddenly discovered that on the only road out of my village, right on a nice lumpy, bumpy uneven corner, there's half a field in the road. Tell you, that was a hairy moment. Lots of slewing around.
As I drove past the next day, there was a tractor pulling out of the field. I considered for a moment stopping, giving him a piece of my mind, and insisting that at the very least, there ought to be 'Mud on Road' signs put up. But I took a look at the guy and realised that he was probably fully two foot taller than yours truly, and about four foot further around, so I kept riding and made do with some aggitated gesticulation.
It's an annoying corner because of the lumpiness of it anyway, meaning I've not yet discovered a line through it that's comfortable at any speed, and now I've got to put up with it being slick as ice or oil.
It's not only the reaction of my own two wheels passing over it that annoys me. The other thing to consider is that half the people in my village drive around in AWD vehicles of one type or other, be they Jeeps, Nissans, Subarus, Mitsis... and those f**king great tanks can handle a little bit of mud on the road, so they don't slow down.
Now I do slow down. After my first time across the mud at higher speed than I would have chosen had I known it were there, I take that corner and the mudbath that surrounds it at about 20. The other morning, the local nutter lady (for those interested, the wife of Julian Cope, of Teardrop Explodes, the village's resident eccentric old rocker) was following me out of the village in her huge Navarra, and I slowed. She didn't, and nearly wound up ass-ending me - there was certainly a long sliding noise and an unpleasant grinding noise as her wheels slid and then ABS kicked in...
I've half a mind to go have a bit of a rant at the owners of the farm.
In fact, fuckit, I will.
Now I know, living out here in the West Country (Ooh Arrr) I ought to expect mud on the more rural roads, and as such put up with it, as there are a lot of fields out here around me, and a lot of farmers tending them.
But then wait. Why should I put up with it? I nearly killed myself the other morning, when it was slashing it down a good'nn, and I suddenly discovered that on the only road out of my village, right on a nice lumpy, bumpy uneven corner, there's half a field in the road. Tell you, that was a hairy moment. Lots of slewing around.
As I drove past the next day, there was a tractor pulling out of the field. I considered for a moment stopping, giving him a piece of my mind, and insisting that at the very least, there ought to be 'Mud on Road' signs put up. But I took a look at the guy and realised that he was probably fully two foot taller than yours truly, and about four foot further around, so I kept riding and made do with some aggitated gesticulation.
It's an annoying corner because of the lumpiness of it anyway, meaning I've not yet discovered a line through it that's comfortable at any speed, and now I've got to put up with it being slick as ice or oil.
It's not only the reaction of my own two wheels passing over it that annoys me. The other thing to consider is that half the people in my village drive around in AWD vehicles of one type or other, be they Jeeps, Nissans, Subarus, Mitsis... and those f**king great tanks can handle a little bit of mud on the road, so they don't slow down.
Now I do slow down. After my first time across the mud at higher speed than I would have chosen had I known it were there, I take that corner and the mudbath that surrounds it at about 20. The other morning, the local nutter lady (for those interested, the wife of Julian Cope, of Teardrop Explodes, the village's resident eccentric old rocker) was following me out of the village in her huge Navarra, and I slowed. She didn't, and nearly wound up ass-ending me - there was certainly a long sliding noise and an unpleasant grinding noise as her wheels slid and then ABS kicked in...
I've half a mind to go have a bit of a rant at the owners of the farm.
In fact, fuckit, I will.
