I fell in love with her the moment she was late, though neither one of us knew it at the time because she hadn’t arrived yet.
— Jarod Kintz, This Book Has No Title


I kick it over and click the bike into gear. Being old and english the process is all wrong. The gears are on the wrong the side and upside-down and the rear break is on the wrong side. I have to think about every action I take just to get it down the road. Nudging it into second and opening the throttle. It splutters, kicks and soon I am blasting down a hill in the back streets of Chippendale. Smiling as I realise that I am coming up way too hot into a four way intersection. I ease off the throttle grab the front brake and jab away the rear break... Nothing. Nothing at all the bike is speeding downhill in neutral and picking up speed. The front drum breaks where old fashioned 45 years ago when they were first installed - now they are nothing but an aspirational idea. In my panic I realise I have put the bike into neutral by using the wrong foot to shift down when what I really wanted to do was to put the breaks on. I realise this as I fly through the empty intersection without giving way and with no chance of stopping. 


Pulling to the side of the road the low revs kill the engine. It's going to be a long way to London.