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“Fuck off, who do you think I am, Your Mother? You serviced it you fucking test it” The Goose.
1985 I had just come back from the grens, In my case it wasn’t so much a case of Boetie gaan border toe as, The sleg troep was sent to the border to stop him fucking up the war effort back here in the States.
I had klaared out in December and found a job at Joes Suzuki as an Appie bike mechanic down in Main street just under the flyover. At the time I rode a 250 Honda so had to park it round the back.
At lunch time I had an errand to run, I have no idea what it was, but I know I had to come down President street in front of the courts. The road narrows down dramatically at that point so traffic could be a bit fucked up.
On this particular day, I was heading East going back to graft after lunch. I came down to the court and suddenly there were cages everywhere I looked, two cars came out of parking bays opposite one another, two cars swerved to miss said cars and I squeezed through the middle of the mess.
When I say I heard harps and saw Angels, I am not kidding. I left brake marks in my undergarments and didn’t have time to do anything but shit myself and go for the gap. I took paint off both cars with my crash bars. I came to a halt at the robot and was rattling in my boots.
I was a skinny oke so I am pretty sure everyone heard my knees knocking on the tank. A pedestrian says to me did you see that? I says are all my parts still here?
I didn’t have a licence so decided that the better plan was to just fuck off, no harm no foul, the paint on the crash bars looked no worse than the scrapes from my altercation with the tar at Gillooleys interchange.
I got back, told my tale and put the plug back in the B120 that I was servicing and asked The Goose to go test it. Well, you know his answer already.
That was the second scariest ride of my life, no not the scraping, riding that fucking delivery bike.