Saddle bum
Über Member
- Location
- Kent
Gaol Lane, Biggin Hill on the way to Downe. Big ring in, nice and comfy. There's a twisty bit through some houses.
Third or fourth bend, a left hander and............... "Oh S**t." Some dozy bint drives her car out looking the other way and proceeds to drive on the wrong side towards me. Anchors on, feet out and stop (I think it was in that order). The brain dead tart is still looking back at an oncoming car and is about to turn me into a flesh and carbon fibre puree.
At the very last possible moment she looks ahead, the brain cell computes. Her cerebral functions deduce all is not quite right. Realisation takes hold and I am blinded as the whites of her eyes look like an exploding super nova. She manages to find the middle pedal and Mrs Tintop stops literally one foot from my front wheel. It seemed like I had been stopped for an hour.
"What you going to do now, Poppet?" I enquire. From that moment she studiously refused to engage in eye contact. Her face was a mixture of irritation, embarrassment and "I don't want to be here". In the other car that had been coming towards me, the driver ( a very old boy) was looking in shocked amazement. He sat rooted, his knuckles slowly going white as they gripped the wheel.
With a sulking look and a pout (like Private Pike), Tampax Brain puts the car into reverse and reverses back into her drive. "Have you learnt any thing?" I ask. No answer.
She can also vote.
Bloody Hell, I thought, those Chorus brakes sure can lock up the front wheel.
Third or fourth bend, a left hander and............... "Oh S**t." Some dozy bint drives her car out looking the other way and proceeds to drive on the wrong side towards me. Anchors on, feet out and stop (I think it was in that order). The brain dead tart is still looking back at an oncoming car and is about to turn me into a flesh and carbon fibre puree.
At the very last possible moment she looks ahead, the brain cell computes. Her cerebral functions deduce all is not quite right. Realisation takes hold and I am blinded as the whites of her eyes look like an exploding super nova. She manages to find the middle pedal and Mrs Tintop stops literally one foot from my front wheel. It seemed like I had been stopped for an hour.
"What you going to do now, Poppet?" I enquire. From that moment she studiously refused to engage in eye contact. Her face was a mixture of irritation, embarrassment and "I don't want to be here". In the other car that had been coming towards me, the driver ( a very old boy) was looking in shocked amazement. He sat rooted, his knuckles slowly going white as they gripped the wheel.
With a sulking look and a pout (like Private Pike), Tampax Brain puts the car into reverse and reverses back into her drive. "Have you learnt any thing?" I ask. No answer.
She can also vote.
Bloody Hell, I thought, those Chorus brakes sure can lock up the front wheel.
