Day Off

CHAPTER 50

Day Off 1980s

I had a day off in the middle of the week from work, for some strange reason, I can't remember exactly why, but I would normally work a five-day week on shift work, Monday to Friday, mornings or afternoon shifts and maybe a Saturday morning at the engineering firm that I worked at, in LLangeinor, but what I do remember is that it was a Wednesday, not the best day to take off from work, so I must have had some good reason for taking it off, most likely the company was making me use my holidays up, because they had a policy that you could not transfer them into the next financial year.

I was staff, which meant I had no choice in the matter, take it or lose it, so I would have taken it.

Everyone I knew was in work, it was the middle of the week, all my friends worked, otherwise we would not be able to afford to ride, everything cost money.

So I was at a loose end, so not to waste the day, I decided to go for a ride on my own to make most of the day I had off.

I decided to go for a run to west or mid Wales, it had great scenery some nice roads and I hadn’t ridden up in that direction for ages.

I guessed I would be on the road for around 6 – 8 hours there and back, I intended to sight see some of the many castles that are in that part of Wales, and maybe head for the west coast around the seaside town of Tenby, I had no real plan, I would just head in whatever direction the day took me.

( Photo 1 ) . My Kwaka Z 1000.

It was a mild grey day, the sky was carpeted with grey clouds and no rain, which was a blessing in its self.

The weather forecast said there would be low cloud cover and the high temp for the day would be around 14 degrees, not a bad day for riding really, not to hot, no rain and dry roads what else can you ask for.

So off I went, I left home in Pontycymmer before the big hand on the clock hit 9 am, I only waited until this time in the morning because I needed petrol, and Brawns garage in LLuest village did not open until 9 am, old man Brawn did not open the garage up until that time in the morning.

So when the clock struck 9 am, I rode down the empty roads of the valley, lluest is only a couple of miles away, Brawns was the only garage in the valley, and still is the only one to this day as far as I know.

When I arrived at the garage, I was old man brawn’s first customer, he filled my tank right up to the top of the petrol cap with his cheap unleaded petrol and then I headed straight for the M4 motorway a few miles away at Sarn.

I intended in using the motorway until I arrived at the roundabout at the end of the M4 motorway, and then I would head for Carmarthen town on the A48, I would have been in west Wales by this time, I would have left the M4 behind me and just A and B roads to ride on, I had lots of options in what direction I wanted to ride in, I was toying with the idea of heading towards my favorite castle Carreg Cennen near LLandilo, this I would do after visiting one of the coastal towns like Fishguard, Tenby or Pendine, I had plenty of options open to me.

I had an uneventful ride on the M4, I cruised around the 80 mph mark almost all the way into west Wales, no real traffic to speak of, some cars and a few delivery vans, I had an uninterrupted open road in front of me.

I remember overtaking a small van with Jones the Butcher displayed on the side written in the old type of 19th century script, in the same style of the small butchers van that was used in the TV comedy series of Dad’s Army, this is not really important, just some detail I remembered from the ride.

I didn't come across any coppers all the way along the route that I had taken, mostly likely they were still eating their bacon butty’s and drinking coffee somewhere or as it is in Wales, welsh cakes and cups of tea.

I came to the end of the motorway and pulled onto the roundabout, there are no more motorways after this point, just A roads and narrow, tight leafy country B roads with lots of tractors hogging the roads and suicidal sheep.

I noticed a Road Chef café signpost as I negotiated the roundabout, so I decided to go for a coffee at Pont Abraham rest stop to think about my next destination and to warm up a little and maybe have something to eat if I felt hungry, I wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere, I had the whole day in front of me with no agenda to follow.

( Photo 2 ) . The road chef at Pont Abraham.

The roads were pretty quite this morning, I had no hold-ups at all, even the roundabouts were clear of traffic, I had hardly used my brakes all the way up to this point.

When I arrived at the rest stop there were only a few customers there, maybe half a dozens cars in the car park, it didn’t look very busy, so I pulled into the car park, there were plenty of places to park, so I pulled up as close to the café as I possibly could, near to the large windows which overlooked the car park.

I had my tank bag strapped down with a bungee, the bag held itself on by itself with a series of strong magnets sewn into the lining of the bag, but it did have a tendency to slip to one side when traveling on the road, so to be on the safe side, I made sure it was more secure, bungees are wonderful things, they have so many uses.

I left the bag strapped to the petrol tank there was nothing of any real value in the bag, a paper land-ranger map ( no sat nav’s back then ), a can of W.D.40 and a dry cloth, my tool kit was under the seat, I had everything I needed for a minor break down, a major break down would have been like a puncture or serious engine trouble and that would have entailed a long walk to a B.T. phone box and long wait at the side of the road.

The Pont Abraham rest stop had large glass windows and this is why I left the bag on the bike, I could keep an eye on the bike and my stuff from the inside of the café.

I was riding my kwaka Z 1000, it was a large bike and was easy to spot in among the cars, there were no other bikes around and no dedicated bike parking spaces, so parking the bike directly opposite the large windows that overlooked the car park, gave me confidence that I did not have to worry about the bike while I relaxed in the café, I could see the bike plainly from the car park though the widows, there were a couple of empty widow seats, so I intended to sit in one of those, so that I could keep an eye on the bike, I didn’t expect any problems, but it is always wise to be on the safe side.

As I entered the restaurant a few people looked up from their breakfast’s and gave me a quick stare and then carried on with eating their fried breakfast of bacon, two sausages, fried bread, beans and eggs.

There would be no breakfast for me, it was far too early for me to eat, as a general rule I never eat any food in the morning, in fact I eat when I was hungry, I never had a given time to eat, breakfast was never on the cards for me, I would eat later, maybe when I pull up in Carmarthen town.

The restaurant was busy with many visitor stopping for breakfast to start their day off, but there were plenty of places to sit, the seat I spotted from outside was still empty, so I went to the counter ordered my coffee, the girls working behind counter were speaking welsh to each other, so I ordered my coffee in welsh,

“A oes gen I un coffi, os gwelwch yn dda “, “ can I have one coffee, please “.

The girl behind the counter smiled at me, she was what I could judge in her early 30s and a little on the plump side and I remember her name, as it was on the badge on her overall, it displayed her name as Cerys, she replied back in welsh “ rhaid I chi fod yn oer, dont chi eisiau I unrhyw frecwast gynhesu â hi “.

“ You must be cold, do you want any breakfast to warm up with “

I told her, I was ok, I just need a coffee please, she gave me a pot of coffee, I was about to pay her for the coffee, and she said.

“ gallwch ei gael ar y tŷ , mae’n braf clywed iaith duwiau o gwsmeriaid sydd gennym fel arfer yn dwristiaid , rydych chi’n eu mwynhau “ ,

“ You can have it on the house, it is nice to hear gods language from customers, we normally have English-speaking tourists, you enjoy “.

I said thank you, and then sat down in my chosen seat by the window.

I was enjoying my coffee and just watching the world go by, the restaurant stated to get a little busy, which was fine with me, I had got here just before all the tourists and lorry drivers started to come in, and then an English family of five decided to sit on the tables right next to me, I knew they were English by the fucked up Essex accent they had.

They made their presence known as soon as they entered the building, they were loud and attention seeking, the 3 kids that came in with them, immediately started playing up, the parents ignored the noisy kids, so I did the same, I was not stopping much longer in any case, so I ignored them, I would be far away from them in a few minutes, I was not far off finishing my pot of coffee.

I had no issue with them, I would be soon on my way, well that is until they sat down on the next table to me.

They had been there only a few minutes, everything they did was loud, every time one of them opened their mouth’s they shouted, they shouted at the kids, which I presume the little shits were deaf because they didn’t seem to take any notice of the mother.

The father just sat there switched off from everything that was going on around him, he didn’t give shit of how much his family were disturbing and annoying the other customers in café.

Like I said, I ignored them, I was about to leave, well that was until I heard the mother say very loudly “ they leave anyone in here don’t they “.

I knew she was talking about me, I was sitting with my back to them, but I could see their reflection in the glass window that we were all sitting by, I could see the reflection of her pointing at me, also I knew it was directed at me because she said it so loud all the other customers and the café staff stopped what they were doing and looked in my direction and the other clue was that everyone else in the café looked the same with the same causal clothes.

I was the only one who looked different, I was wearing my black leather jacket with my denim cut-off, so I did look a little different from everyone else in the café and didn't quite fit in with everyone else with what everyone else was wearing in the café.

I turned around in my seat and looked at the whole family, this brought a brief welcome silence to the place, I made eye contact with the mother who immediately looked away.

I then turned my gaze at the father, who pretended to be somewhere else and kept reading his newspaper, from his reaction he had seen all this before, it was nothing new to him.

Nothing was said, the stare was enough.

They could see from my prolonged gaze just because I was on my own and half the size of the mother, I wasn’t going to take any shit off them.

The table went quite for a little while, I turned back around.

I turned back around and continued to ignored them again and finished off my coffee.

( Photo 3 ) . This is what I looked like at the time of this story, this photo was taken of me on a rally somewhere, and not the café, but I am wearing the same gear as I wore in the café, leather jacket and denim cut off, most likely with the same kind of stare.

I was not here looking for trouble, I was just having a quiet coffee and a quick break after riding for 38 miles and to warm up a little, the temp was going to be 14 degrees today, but not in the morning it was more like 10 degrees or so, the distance of 38 miles doesn’t seem very far to travel, but on a cold Welsh morning, on a bike at 80 mph, the wind tends to bite into your bones a little and it was too early for this kind of Bollocks’ in the morning.

The youngest kid of the family who must have been around 5 – 6 years old was jumping up and down on the seats all the time, the little shit had more energy than the Duracell bunny, the family ignored him and just let all the kids run around with no supervision, annoying everyone in the café including the staff, one of the girls behind the counter called over to the family in English “ can you stop your children running around please, they are disturbing the other customers “.

This comment from the waitress created another bout of shouting at the kids, but it did stop them running around like demented rag-dolls, after a torrent of threats from the mother they came reluctantly back to the table that their parents were sitting by, which just happen to be directly behind me, and then I had all the little fuckers behind me bouncing up and down and screaming at each other.

I overheard the mother saying quietly to the husband “ who does that welsh bitch, thinks she is talking too, “ the husband looked up for a second from reading his paper and shrugged his shoulders, he couldn’t care less and was totally uninterested on what was going on around him.

The youngest kid was now sitting directly behind me, he was playing with a black rubber/plastic bat shaped toy that squeaked a high-pitched noise, I could see the other customers in the café getting really pissed off with the family.

The kids were totally out of control and the mother either ignored them or screamed and shouted at them, there was no quiet word, it was either 100% screaming at them or they totally ignored their behavior.

At one point another of the café’s staff came over to the table and asked them to quiet`en down a little, repeating the same request her workmate said to the mother earlier, but with a stronger tone to her voice.

The mother said sorry to the girl and then shouted at the kids making more noise, and then totally ignored the kids again, the little shits did not listen whatsoever, nothing had changed.

The kid with the toy bat carried on squeaking.

Now the kid seemed to be squeaking this toy deliberately behind my head, he was holding it close to my head then squeezing it and then letting the air back into it, letting the toy fill up with air again, so the toy continually made that annoying squeaking noise.

What the kid didn’t realise was that I could see him in the reflection of the glass window, just like I did with his mother a little earlier.

He did it once too many times.

I turned sharply around in my seat and looked at the family, and I said to the parents, not in an angry voice, but just a firm one, “ can you stop your child squeaking that toy behind my head please “.

The mother immediately went into defense mode of her brat son.

“ leave him alone, he’s not doing anything, he is just playing “.

I replied “ yes, he’s playing right behind my head, stop him squeaking the toy behind my head please “.

She screamed at the kid, “ stop squeaking that thing, Byron “.

The kid screamed back at the mother. “ But, I’m not doing anything“.

Well I suppose you reap what you sow.

The father again paid no attention to the conversation that had just happened, he did not look up or say anything he just carried on reading.

The kid stopped squeaking the toy for a bit and then started to bang the table repeatedly instead.

The mother tilted her to one side and just gave me a hard stare.

I turned back around in my seat and tried to ignore them again.

The staff and the rest of the customers in the café watched this slight disagreement.

I think everyone in the café were all hoping this family from hell would leave soon or possibly that I would take out a machete and chop them all to bits.

It did cross my mind.

I finished my coffee.

I grabbed my helmet off the seat where I had left it and started to get to my feet.

The kid seeing that I was about to leave, once again picked up his toy from hell and let it rip right behind my head, obviously it was a parting gesture, a kind of fuck you, goodbye.

I was on my feet now.

I turned around and leaned over the families table, so I was only inches away from the mother and the fathers faces, and I said in an aggressive voice “ if he does that again", I engineered a long pause at this point, “ I just kept staring at them not saying a word, I had now ten pairs of eyes focused on me, not counting the rest of the café, who were all now very interested in what was going to happen next.

I was looking directly at the father when I continued my one sided conversation, I had his full attention now, he had lowered his newspaper, he was taller than me, but there again most people are, and much heavier, but it was obvious that he had been eating to many Peter's pork pies and never walked anywhere except to the fridge.

And then after the deliberate pause, I continued, if I was a dog I would have been bearing my teeth and growling at him, I said “ I’m going to stuff that fucking bat up your fucking arse “.

The whole family went quiet as did the rest of the café.

The father still didn’t say anything he just went white, the child with the bat climbed over the table and hide by his mother and then someone in the café, a customer a few tables up the café, shouted “ well said “.

It was the first time the café had been quiet since they came in.

The mother just stared at me not saying a word.

All eyes were on this family waiting for something to kick off.

I had said enough, I walked away heading for the exit door.

The staff behind the counter smiled at me as I walked past them, I said thank you to them in welsh one of the girls replied to me in the same language.“ Peidiwch â diolch i rywfaint o heddwch ar y diwedd “.

“ No, thank you, some peace at last “.

I headed back to my bike, I put my black full-face Griffin helmet on and as I did so, the kid that had the bat toy from hell was standing in the window directly in front of me squeaking the bat at me.

I just looked at him and shock my head back and forth, he then gave me a V sign with his fingers.

The mother had seen him make this rude gesture and slapped him with her open hand right across the back of his head and started screaming at him once again.

It looked like bedlam had once again decided to visit the café, I took no pleasure in watching the child being hit, I didn't blame him for his behavior.

The parents carry that responsibility.

I bet the rest of the customers and staff in the rest stop café looked forward to this family leaving.

So much for a quiet coffee, it was time to head out onto the road for some piece and quiet.

I started the bike up and let her tick over for a little while to warm up and without looking back headed for Carmarthen town.

( Photo 4 ) . Carmarthen town on the river Towy with a section of the castle wall behind the houses.

The traffic was light as I entered the old town and I found a parking space quite easily in the middle of the town.

I had a quick wander around, being a born tourist, I can't help myself checking out anything of interest, Carmarthen town is an old town with many very old buildings and with its own Norman French medieval castle overlooking the river Towy.

It was a welcome break after all that bollocks in the café, everything was slower here, even the river towy didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

While I was in the town, I went out of my way a little to visit Merlin’s Oak, for no other reason but to check it out while I was in Carmarthen, to be honest it was a little underwhelming, the Oak stump had been removed some years earlier, the original stump was sited on the edge of a pavement.

I don't know what I expected to see really, but I can say I seen where it once was, another glitch in my day, I suppose.

If you are curious about the old Oak what follows is the history behind Merlin’s Oak.

The Old Oak was probably planted in 1659 to mark the ascension of King Charles 11 to the throne. It became a popular meeting place for local people because the area at the time was quiet and central. It was an important social location but the tree was allegedly poisoned by a man who did not like the noise made by the people gathering there. The mythical character of the wizard Merlin of king Arthur's court has been associated with the Old Oak since the 19th Century and it is said that Merlin still sleeps under the hill close by the original location. The saying goes that,

‘When Merlin’s tree shall tumble down.

Then shall fall Carmarthen town.’

Merlin’s Oak, also known as the Old Oak, it is an oak tree that once stood on the corner of Oak Lane and Priory Street in Carmarthen, South Wales. The Oak was probably planted by a schoolmaster in 1659 or 1660, to celebrate the return of King Charles II of England to the throne. Legend had it that if the oak fell, disaster would befall the town.

In the early 19th century, a local man appears to have poisoned the tree, with the intention of stopping people from meeting under it, and the oak is believed to have died in 1856. In 1951, a branch was broken off the dead tree; this fragment can still be seen in Carmarthenshire County Museum. In 1978, the last fragment of the tree’s stump was removed from its original place, and is now displayed in Saint Peter’s Civic Hall in Nott Square, Carmarthen. A replacement tree was planted at the same site in 2009.

( Photo 5 ) . Merlin’s Oak.

After visiting an uninteresting pavement, I bought some Welsh cakes from one of the market stalls in the town and eat them watching some fishermen, rod fishing in the river.

I watched them from the battlements of the castle.

A small sign on the castle wall, stated in large red letters “ don't not climb the walls “, so i ignored the suggestion and climbed on top of the wall and sat on the edge with my legs dangling over the edge watching the fishermen down below me, fishing in the river.

I took this time to check my land ranger map for my next destination, I had tucked the map inside my jacket, I study the map for a little while, I had so many options to take, I could head in land or to the coast or even travel further northwards, but I finally decided to go to Tenby town on the coast, I had not been there for a good while, it is a good place to visit, and some fresh sea air was always good to blow the cobwebs away, the sound of the sea lapping on the sandy beach is always relaxing.

I was ready to leave, I sat on my bike and put my helmet on, I was ready to go and then I found that my ignition key would not turn in the switch.

I thought ( what the fuck ), I assumed at first that someone had tampered with it, I was a long way from home for something as simple as this to happen and leave me stranded.

I persevered with the switch and moved it around a little and then it turned, I inspected it a little further, the switch was just worn out, the ware and tear of the amount of mileage I had done on this bike was huge, at this point in the bike’s life I think the mileage was around 70,000 plus miles.

She ended clocking up 155,000 miles by the time I needed to take her off the road.

I’m now writing this in 2018, I still have her, she is now enjoying her retirement in my garage.

She deserved a long rest, she has worked hard for it.

My wife says she is going to bury the bike with me when I go, I’m quite happy if she does that.

Hope she does.

For thousands of years people were buried with grave goods to help them on their way to whatever went for the promised land back then, I would be quite happy to have my bike with me on the journey into the darkness.

So three little glitches in my day so far, the family from hell at the café, the missing oak and the ignition switch deciding to play up miles from home.

But nothing to spoil my day yet.

From this time on, I needed to wiggle the key in the ignition to get it to turn, it became normal after a while, doing this with the key, so I never changed the ignition and just got on with it.

I was on the road again heading towards the coast.

I rode down towards the tourist coastal town of Tenby, traffic had increased somewhat, but there were no hold-ups that would not have bothered me being on a bike.

Riding in traffic on a bike gives you the advantage of cutting through the middle of stationary traffic, all you had to watch out for was some idiot passenger in a car, opening his door to take a look around on what the hold up was or an inpatient car driver trying to change a lane looking for a faster route out of a jam.

I had seen this kind of behavior happen on the north Circular outside London which is called the M25.

A group of us, around 10 – 12 bikes were on our way to a rally about 50 miles north of London.

The north circular was completely at a stand still, it resembled more like a giant car park than a motorway, nothing was moving except us bikers, so we rode up the middle of the line of stationary cars, Lawson was in front of me on his Black CB 650 Honda.

It was a slow business, we didn’t have a lot of room to manoeuvre, so the going was slow, the cars were packed very close together, but we were making progress.

The traffic jam was never ending, I made a mental note to myself never to use the M25 ever again, I think it was Brian's idea to come this way, I think we all let him know that it wasn’t a good idea in our own typical way.

Well Lawson was doing what everyone else was doing making his way through the corridor of cars, quietly threading his away between the cars, and then suddenly a dickhead in the passenger seat of a car opened his door right in front of him, the guy didn’t bother looking behind him or using the door mirror, he should have checked the offside mirror before he attempted to open the car door, some people do not have any common sense, if he had used his head he would have seen the other bikes passing by and checked to see if there were anymore coming up behind the car.

Common sense should have told him there could be more bikers filtering through the traffic, after all about 6 bikes had already ridden passed him, and he had no business getting out of a car on a motorway for safety reasons.

Lawson braked hard in the short distance he had open to him, but he still hit the car door hard and bent the car door out wide, the door was bent so far out, it hit the door on the another car parked alongside in the other lane, the hinges of the car door made a loud agonized creaking noise and then the door window shattered into a million pieces.

Lawson was ok, he stayed sitting on the bike, he did slide up the tank a little, but he kept the bike upright.

The guy in the car was a little shock up, he had gone white as a sheet, he did not mange to get out of the seat before Lawson readjusted the door hinges.

Lawson, started calling him all kinds of things, as he pulled the bike backwards from the door.

The guy looked terrified, he tried to close the car door, but the hinges were bent out of place.

Lawson just rode passed the broken door mainly because we started to lag behind the other guys, and we would have had a hella of a job catching up with them if we hung around at this spot.

I pulled up alone side the car and shouted “ open your fucking eyes next time “ and then I tried to catch up and close the gap with the other guys.

Ok, back in Wales.

I arrived in Tenby in good time, no hold-ups whatsoever, I blasted passed a few cars that were driving too slow for me.

I pulled into Tenby and worked my way towards the harbour.

I found a safe place to park the bike, and just went for a walk down to the harbour area.

The town was pretty busy for the time of the year, it was late September and winter was just around the corner, so I think everyone was making the most of the mild weather.

Because it was getting late in the year, it was another reason to go for a ride in this part of Wales, once winter kicks in, riding up here was a little on the hazardous side there are to many country lanes for the authorities to grit and because it is very hilly with high hedges, the sun does not get a chance to burn the frost away on the roads and of course it’s cold and normally wet, the only time I come up in this direction in the winter was on the Boxing Day Pendine Run that was always organized by the Mid-Glam Motor Club every year and that run depended on how good the weather was.

( Photo 6 ) . Tenby Harbour, the town is a very popular tourist destination during the summer.

At the harbour I watched the seagulls nicking chips out of the hands of the tourists with unbelievable cheek and skill, which is always fun to watch, the bird would eye up their prey from a safe distance then suddenly swoop down and steal the tasty snack as soon as the victim raised the fried chip to his or her mouth with incredible speed and precision, in a blink of an eye the chip would be gone.

The big fat looking birds were real pros, no chip or ice-cream was safe from these flying bandits, nothing edible was missed by these feathered pirates.

Tenby town was a very busy port during the medieval times and beneath the town there a system of tunnels with large caves, so I made the effort to try and visit one of these caves.

As I wandered around the town, I was looking out for Boots the chemist in the high street, I knew that behind the shop there was a huge cave that can only be accessed by going through to the back of the shop.

Once I found the shop I went in side and asked the staff at the shop counter if I could take a look at the cave, but, they told me a very blunt, NO, and they were fed up with people asking to go and see the cave, a tall balding 30 year old something guy in a white overall said very dryly that this was chemist not a museum and then finished the sentence off with ( do you want to buy anything or have you just come in to stare at a closed door ) having finished his sarcastic sentence, he just stared blankly at me.

I stared back and said “ I think you need a holiday “, I didn't wait for any reply, I just tuned and left the shop, so visiting the cave system was off the menu.

I then headed off to take a look at the 15th century town house of a Tudor merchant that as managed to survive more than 500 years without being altered in any way, this visit took all of three minutes as it was closed to visitors for the season.

( Photo 7 ) . The 15th century town house of a Tudor Merchant.

As the tide was out, I took a walk up to ruins of the Napoleonic Fort on Saint Catherine’s rock, which is a very large outcrop of rock, ( see photo 6 ) it is more like a small island really, it is very close to the beach and the rock can be accessed when the tide is out.

I wandered around this fort checking out all the empty gun rooms and being amazed by the quality of the fort, there was not a lot see really, it was an empty shell, the stone building had stood up well to the couple of hundred years of being pounded by the winter storms and welsh weather, they knew how to build these things back then, inside the building the only noticeable evidence of the occupation of a military force that could be seen were the half circle tracks of where the gun emplacements were set into the floor with a wide arched window looking over the sea, but sadly no artillery pieces, being in this fort fired up my desire to visit another castle, so from there I decided I would head inland to a proper medieval castle.

My favorite of all welsh castles is called Carreg Cennen, I never get tired of visiting this castle.

( See the photo at the end of the story and you will see why Carreg Cennen is at the top of my castle list ).

So, I left Tenby town and headed inland toward LLandilo.

I had ridden a good distance away from Tenby and had to pull off the main A road and was now riding through the green country B roads.

As I was riding, I could see up ahead, a bike parked up on the side of the road there was a biker with his helmet placed on the road nearby the bike, as I got closer I could see the biker was kneeling down by the side of the bike, sometimes a helmet placed on the ground near a bike on the side of the road is an indication that the biker is in need of assistance, not always but sometimes.

He was paying great attention to the engine, he heard me approaching and got to his feet and looked in my direction.

I slowed down and pulled up behind him, there was not a lot of room to park on this road, it was a narrow lane with high hedges and with no pavements, luckily we were on a short straight part of the road which gave us a chance of being seen by other passing drivers.

I thought if I could help in some way, I can't pass a fellow biker on the side of the road without finding out if he needed help in some way.

He waited for me to pull up to a stop and step off my bike, I said to the guy “ you got problems “ .

He said “ yeah, I think my bikes fucked “.

We both inspected his engine, there was oil everywhere.

The bike was a Grey Z 500 Kawasaki.

I asked him what happened.

He replied “ I don’t really know, I was just riding along and I heard a god almighty bang from the engine and the bike died instantly, I just freewheeled here, to this spot “.

I looked back behind me on the road I had just ridden up on, I could see a large trail of oil leading right up to the dead Z 500, I hadn’t noticed the oil on the road when I approached the rider and had ridden right through oil slick.

I looked at the oil slick and at the bike, I said to the guy “ there is no point in trying to fix it, the engine is knackered, your bike is bollocked butt, that ain't going anywhere“.

He replied “ fuck, I think I may have dropped a valve or something “.

I said “ the oil has come out of the bottom of your crankcase you have dropped more than a valve, that engine is well fucked, it ain't going anywhere except on the back of a truck “. I continued “ I’ll give you lift home, if you need one, you can organize how to get the bike picked tomorrow, nobody’s going to nick it in the state it is in unless they are looking for some scrap, where do you live “.

He told me he lived in a village about 20 miles north of Carmarthen Town, he did tell me the name of the village, but like a lot of things I have forgotten it nowa days.

I said “ that’s ok with me, I’m out for a ride “.

We pulled his bike a little further into the hedge trying to get as much of the bike as possible off the road, there were no lights on this road and when it gets dark the bike would not be so much of a target to blind car drivers, we so pushed it further into the hedge so it was almost off the road.

He said his name was Alwyn, he told me he was visiting his mother, she lived near the coast, and he was on his way home when his bike decided to end its life.

We were riding through the lanes and in the distance I could see the top of a tractors cab merging from a hidden field gateway.

I could not see the field gateway, but by the angle of the tractor I could see it was making it's way on to the roadway.

So I slowed down because I knew that there was no way the farmer could see me coming towards him and then suddenly I could hear a bike come up behind me and just has suddenly it screamed past us.

All we saw was a green steak blurring passed us, this rider was really shifting, I could plainly see the tractor now it started to come out of the field towing a low trailer.

The was no way the biker could have stopped, he was going far to fast to brake in time, luckily for him the farmer slammed his anchors on and the tractor came to a juddering halt,

The tractor was halfway across the road, leaving a small gap near the far hedge.

The biker on the green bike was wearing green leathers that matched the bike, there was enough gap for him to pass the tractor with no harm.

He should have thanked his lucky stars for the farmer to have such good reactions or there would have been one less biker on the road.

( Photo 8 ) . The Napoleonic Fort at Tenby, the tide is out that is why you can see the sandy beach, the fort is normally surrounded by seawater.

I said to my passenger, Alwyn “ fuck me, did you just see that “ all he said was “ fucking idiot “.

The farmer sat in his tractor and just stared at us as we passed him, he shock his head back and forth, he was not happy with bikers at the time, I could see him mouthing something, most likely nothing nice.

I waved at him as a show of thanks for stopping and being so observant, many tractor drivers pull out in front of you regardless of what's coming up the road.

He didn't wave back, he just kept staring with a harsh impression on his face.

We didn't see the green biker again, he was well gone out of sight, but we did smell his exhaust fumes all the way through the lane.

I finally dropped Alwyn off at his home.

As I have said I can't remember the name of the village I dropped him off at now, to be honest, I didn’t take much notice of the name at the time as Alwyn was giving me directions on how to get there and I was trying to remember the way I came to the village, so I could find my way back onto the main road.

He offered me petrol money which I refused, if you can't help someone in trouble at the side of the road especially another biker, in my opinion you should catch a bus and let someone else take the moral decision off you.

We all need help at some point our lives, something simple like a vehicle breakdown or just an offer of support.

It goes along way.

So I said my farewells to Alwyn and then headed back down south, I filled my tank back up with petrol at Carmarthen town.

It was getting later in the day now, so I decided to skip going to Carreg Cennen and visit the castle another day, which I did with wobble my friend when we took a ride up there just to go to the castle the next summer.

Overall it was a good day out and I enjoyed the ride so much I still remember it above other “ Rideouts “ that I have done in the past.

It is a good feeling riding in a group with 20 plus other bikers, the sound of all the bikes together and the friendship that goes with it can't be beaten.

But it is always good to get out alone and blow some cobwebs away, and it didn’t rain which was a bonus and I had a free pot of coffee out of the ride.

Happy Days.

( Photo 9 ) . Carreg Cennen castle, my favorite castle.