A wolf in sheep’s clothing or how to hide your Norton.
Hi all,
I’m fortunate enough to be holidaying in France, or St Tropez to be more exact. It’s a long way from rural Australia!
I know what you are all now thinking. No, I’m not one of the beautiful people, no, I couldn’t afford it unless a friend had a house here and yes, I am a boring old fart who sticks out like a sore thumb.
But what is the point of this post.
Motor scooters swarm around here like blowflies around a dead wombat. Their riders whiz around the narrow winding roads, I’m sure deep down they all think they are Agostini. Many have hotted up exhausts and are quite loud.
Yesterday as we walked to a rustic restaurant I came across a line of these machines. There were various makes like Vespa that I knew and many I didn’t. I couldn’t believe the physical size of these machines, a far cry from the little machines of 1960s Italian films, with a beautiful girl astride.
As I scanned down the line of these bloated and overgrown ‘bug-smashers’ my eyes fell upon what looked like a vacant space in the otherwise crowded lot. On closer inspection I saw a humble set of handlebars just visible in the sea of plastic mouldings that seem to make up most of a modern step-through. It turned out it belonged to a very presentable Norton Fastback.
So I thought, here is the old commando that could thrash the pants of any of these diminutive behemoths but it looked like a kids mini-bike in their presence. Anyone who was not familiar with bikes would think it was the little ‘run-about’.
It’s surprising how physically small a commando is, especially with low bars and a small tank. Who would have guessed that this was a superbike of the late sixties/ early seventies?
But it did remind me of a joke from my very young biking days in the late seventies:
# Question) What’s riding a scooter got in common with making love to a seventy year old prostitute?
# Answer) It might be a lot of fun but you wouldn’t want your mates to find out about it
Yours in humour
Alan
Hi all,
I’m fortunate enough to be holidaying in France, or St Tropez to be more exact. It’s a long way from rural Australia!
I know what you are all now thinking. No, I’m not one of the beautiful people, no, I couldn’t afford it unless a friend had a house here and yes, I am a boring old fart who sticks out like a sore thumb.
But what is the point of this post.
Motor scooters swarm around here like blowflies around a dead wombat. Their riders whiz around the narrow winding roads, I’m sure deep down they all think they are Agostini. Many have hotted up exhausts and are quite loud.
Yesterday as we walked to a rustic restaurant I came across a line of these machines. There were various makes like Vespa that I knew and many I didn’t. I couldn’t believe the physical size of these machines, a far cry from the little machines of 1960s Italian films, with a beautiful girl astride.
As I scanned down the line of these bloated and overgrown ‘bug-smashers’ my eyes fell upon what looked like a vacant space in the otherwise crowded lot. On closer inspection I saw a humble set of handlebars just visible in the sea of plastic mouldings that seem to make up most of a modern step-through. It turned out it belonged to a very presentable Norton Fastback.
So I thought, here is the old commando that could thrash the pants of any of these diminutive behemoths but it looked like a kids mini-bike in their presence. Anyone who was not familiar with bikes would think it was the little ‘run-about’.
It’s surprising how physically small a commando is, especially with low bars and a small tank. Who would have guessed that this was a superbike of the late sixties/ early seventies?
But it did remind me of a joke from my very young biking days in the late seventies:
# Question) What’s riding a scooter got in common with making love to a seventy year old prostitute?
# Answer) It might be a lot of fun but you wouldn’t want your mates to find out about it
Yours in humour
Alan
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