The Beat Goes On

After seeing all that mystical stuff the day before we decided we could use some too. So we offed it to a magic well in the Camors Forest, a nice ride from where we was staying. At the well fantastic water come out having been filtered through the forest, it tastes really good and people come from far and wide with loads of bottles and containers to fill up and drink it at home.

We had a drink and blessed our bikes with a bit so as some of the magic from the trees and forest would rub off and keep us safe. As we was getting all spiritual and back to nature that Seachimp disappeared over the road into the deep dark wood. We wondered but said nothing... Then to our horror we saw him squat down, quickly turning our backs not willing to watch as one of our own emptied himself in our newly found magic place we stood looking at the well " nice here " small talk, you know the sort of thing.

Seachimp, mean time, started to shout, turns out he was trying to take a pic or two for the family album and decided to get all arty with a low angle shot. If only I had been wearing the glasses priscribed to me and not scummed to vanity trying to look cool again. Still I couldn't have been alone in thinking he was about to take a dump as everyone of us turned away at the same time. Maybe there is a theme here.
Anyway onward... After a great ride through the forest and villages lead by Clunk we made it to the seaside port of Saint Goustan next to Auray. Ignoring sign posts, tourist and locals alike, we drove our bikes right up the quay named after Benjamin Franklin ,of USA President fame. Turns out he went there too, looking for some help with a little problem he was having with the English at the time,shitting on him and his, causing him and his bro's a bit of agro.

Coming from Cornwall we understood all about this sort of problem, but we never did think of asking our French cousins for help... may be we should have after all look at them now. Them Americans that is.

Anyway right up to the best bit and parked up " we're English you know and don't understand you Johnny's" " More beer garcon", was the cry.

There we sat enjoying the views. Manly of our bikes and the bloody interest the rat bike kept getting. For some reason everywhere we went people made a bee line of the rat bike to admire it, or just to stare in disbelief, it was hard to tell. Either way it was a bit galling each of us considering that the bike we rode was with out doubt the best thing that ever graced the highway, only to be pushed aside by the bloody pile of rat ....

Then off back to the club house where our host had laid on the most fantastic meal "fruit de mare" loads of it.I have never eaten so much sea food in my life, it was great and very generous of him and the family WE THANK YOU. All washed down with loads of beer also very welcome.

Hay Ho .... Now full of crab, shell fish and beer we decided it would be just the time to do essential maintenance on the bikes, like you do.

So pissed up and with belly's groaning we set too. The rat had developed a wiring problem due to the massive amount of water it kicked up in the wet, which went straight down BullFrogs back and into the wiring loom. Maybe there is a god after all!

Ha..... at last the pile of crap was getting its just rewards... but no with the minimal of fuss and some tape a bottle top and string all was fixed. ( what no 3 week wait to get it into the dealership and mortgage the house to pay of parts and labour) No the bastard.....

Anyway whilst repairing and more beer drinking went on it was decided that trying to ride a uni cycle was a really good idea and ..... off we went. Well some of us, not me I'm far to BIG and by now far to pissed and full so I to me bed, watching and listening .. They on the cycle with very little success it has to be said , when some cleaver spark who shall remain nameless ( but for a small sum I will tell email and cash only) said "this would be so much easier if it had another wheel".

No shit.... they'd call it a bike... now go to bed you twat.