I’m in the bath. I won’t burn your minds with a photo of my hairy body covered in tesco value bubbles, you’ll just have to use your imagination. This is a rarity. I think i clean a piece of bike or riding kit in here more often than i clean myself. It’s not a problem if I leave a fender or my boots in the bath. I’m a bit boned if i can’t get myself out.
Of course it makes perfect sense to get in the bath after a longer journey as the warm water stops things hurting. I had a busy weekend on the bike, Monday and Tuesday mostly disappeared and this is late on Wednesday.
My bath is not even particularly difficult to get out of. In addition to the little and pointless handles built in to the side, there are some nice big rails i had put in. Still doesn’t stop me being a smelly biker though.
I can’t sleep. It’s horrible o’clock in the morning. Everything that can ache is having a pretty good go at doing so. My mind is still racing. I can’t decide whether the most strenuous thing I did today was watch the MotoGP or whisk custard. I didn’t ride. And given that it’s morning, today was yesterday.
I’m not at home. The red-haired Virago is snoring contentedly, occasionally she stirs just enough to smile. I am insanely jealous of her ability to be asleep whenever the opportunity presents itself.
I am not that fortunate.
I have already scoured the usual sources if internet entertainment for novelty, poured over ebay for potential bargains on the spares list, devoured the last third of the book I have been reading for months, contemplated all the things I would do if I had just a little more energy, and resigned myself to the fact that there is likely to be a flurry of creativity until the headache I’m nursing gets in the way, followed by long hours of staring blankly into space or the back of my eyelids, able to do very little, before sleep finally takes me. I will most likely wake up about 6 hours later, feeling little better, but hungry.
When I do wake up feeling non-achey enough to do something, that something will likely be pull my kit on, and ride somewhere. Probably home, via the supermarket, and then sleep some more. Or fail to sleep some more.
Sometimes the best therapy is pottering about sorting out a minor issue, or getting several layers of road grime removed. Particularly when it hurts too much to ride and I need to keep stopping every few minutes. I replaced some of the fuel lines yesterday with new parts, hopefully they will stand up better to the alcohol in modern fuel, and might sort out the cause of the little black granules I keep finding in the float bowls, which might be part of the fuel hoses. Of course they could be part of carb o-rings, floats or gaskets, but replacing the cheap and easy things first as she seems to be running right.