Bike, Batteries and Exercise

For those who dont know - I have a motorbike.

Its an old (1995) Yamaha Virago XV250, cruiser style, and is a pain in the a*!%e.

Let me explain.....

Since June last year I have been working in Glasgow with the Scottish Qualification Authority, which is a fantastic job. During the winter months I can be found standing,freezing and shivering on Platform 2 at Livingston South, whilst providing train updates to the multitude (you know who you are) who seem to thrive on these things.

During the summer (and I use the word loosely here - I am in Scotland after all) my mode of transportation is the aforementioned bike.

Sometimes.

You see it has developed a nasty streak whereby it will produce a fault at random and then openly mock me when I go to try and find it.

Back in March it would not start at all. No jumping (me up and down) or bumping would entice it into a pretend cough and give me the slightest hope that it was listening to my colourful language.

I bought a couple of parts for it and was tempted to order enough bits to rebuild it completely when it caught the thought in my mind and decided it would start....but only with assistance.

This 'assistance' is not the battery....but a run and a jump on its back from me. It then has some motivation to start as those of you how know me will know that me running and jumping on your back...well you wouldnt want that twice!

Sooooo every morning we go through the same routine.

I approach it warily, mouthing sweet gentle words that it is the best bike in the world, and that should it start on the button today I will treat it to an oil change and waxing (surely no bike can resist this).

Every morning therefore - after about 10 minutes of me sitting on it like an idiot - I then get of it and then push it down a small hill and jump on its back shouting "now who's the boss" and it splutters into life.

I should point out (in case it's listening) that when its nice and warm it starts first time, every time and it's a sweet caring bike.

This is all very well in the morning, as its just a few neighbours that I provide the daily fix of "quick look.....the wee fat guy is going to run down the hill again with the bike lol pmsl". However, I work in the heart of the financial district of Glasgow.

Hmmm....lots of eyes when I warily approach it after a hard day's software development (yea yea yea I hear you say).

By the end of the day I am pleading with it to start....dont make me do the morning routine in front of half of Glasgow.

Last Wednesday I left the office about 6. A couple of my colleagues said they would provide moral support in my quest to ridicule myself and stood at the window on the 4th floor (to get a better view).

I sat on the "beast" (it may still be listening) and pleaded with it, begged it......and eventually swore at it.

No go.

I glanced up at the window and saw two figures doubled over and waving hysterically at me. I grimaced.

Running down the street I jumped on it's back......nothing.

Should I glance up at the window again...no chance!

I quickly got off the bike and ran again...faster and further. Noticing the Clyde in front of me I realised it was time to jump on it again.... I swung my right leg over, felt my hamstring "tweak" and then rammed it into 2nd gear.

It got the message that if it did not start this time, it was heading for a watery bed!

It coughed, huccupped and then started and without looking back I sped away.

It was almost too much to look Athol and Alan in the face the following day...not to mention the abuse on Facebook.

I am just away outside now to whisper sweet nothings into its intake valves and caress it gently and see if that works...