New Invalid Carriage purchase-with a cautionary tale....
Discussion
Hello All.
My story starts innocently enough when I thought I'd go for a spot of mountain biking. What a lovely idea.
Off I go down to Innerleithen in the borders, one of the 7stanes routes(not to be confused with the condition of the seats in most of my cars which have 7 stains) What followed was about a couple of hours of sweating, grunting and moaning and finally I was here. Behold, the majesty of my Handjob*
Now normally this would be followed by some rather bloody exciting descending back to the car park with lots of jumps, rocky sections and general ways of terrifying yourself.
What followed for me though was, er, well I don't know. The next thing I remember is coming round, with a broken helmet and no fecking clue where I was, who I was with(no-one) or anything else. Secondary on my list of ailments was a pain in my shoulder but the complete loss of memory was the main issue.
I gathered myself together and got back on the bike. As I carried on things started coming back to me, by checking my phone I saw text messages reminding me that A I had a girlfriend and B she was in Glasgow for the day. Looking in my rucksack it turned out I owned a Porsche(result!). I eventually worked out from signposts which trail I was at and started following the escape route signs for the car park.
Now I should add that although I'd came out by myself it was only because I knew it would be busy and indeed there were plenty of other riders on the trail. None of whom saw me crash or immediately after but help would have been there had I needed it.
After feck knows how long I had arrived back at my car(thankfully remembering I had left it in a different car park than usual) and with some difficulty managed to get the bike into the 944. My head was a lot better by this time(and I think I was probably powered by adrenalin if I'm honest) and I managed to drive the 30 odd miles back home. Got in, called a taxi and took myself to A&E. Here is what is left of my helmet.
After X rays it turned out I had broken my collarbone as well as the obvious concussion. My good lady came back from Glasgow and I was finally released from hospital at 10 on Saturday night-just in time to avoid most of the regular Saturday night drunken a
hole crowd. The doctor was satisfied that there was no lasting effects, although what follows may make her reconsider....
As it is my left shoulder driving is possible but a manual is a no-no-especially the Porsche which has a pretty hefty shift action at the moment. So I thought, better get a cheap, sensible auto to get around in for a couple of months.
So yesterday i came home with this.
A 1994 vintage Jaguar XJ6 3.2 Sport. 68k genuine going by history/MOT's and giffer owned for 10 years from 2004. MOT til December and Tax til August. It has had a bump at the front so needs a bumper and bonnet replacing, I will tackle that when I'm in better health. Drove fine on the way home so it will be getting pressed into service for the next couple of months and then passed on, hopefully in a better state than when I got it.
So in summary, looking for an excuse to buy an old barge? Knock yourself out...
My story starts innocently enough when I thought I'd go for a spot of mountain biking. What a lovely idea.
Off I go down to Innerleithen in the borders, one of the 7stanes routes(not to be confused with the condition of the seats in most of my cars which have 7 stains) What followed was about a couple of hours of sweating, grunting and moaning and finally I was here. Behold, the majesty of my Handjob*
Now normally this would be followed by some rather bloody exciting descending back to the car park with lots of jumps, rocky sections and general ways of terrifying yourself.
What followed for me though was, er, well I don't know. The next thing I remember is coming round, with a broken helmet and no fecking clue where I was, who I was with(no-one) or anything else. Secondary on my list of ailments was a pain in my shoulder but the complete loss of memory was the main issue.
I gathered myself together and got back on the bike. As I carried on things started coming back to me, by checking my phone I saw text messages reminding me that A I had a girlfriend and B she was in Glasgow for the day. Looking in my rucksack it turned out I owned a Porsche(result!). I eventually worked out from signposts which trail I was at and started following the escape route signs for the car park.
Now I should add that although I'd came out by myself it was only because I knew it would be busy and indeed there were plenty of other riders on the trail. None of whom saw me crash or immediately after but help would have been there had I needed it.
After feck knows how long I had arrived back at my car(thankfully remembering I had left it in a different car park than usual) and with some difficulty managed to get the bike into the 944. My head was a lot better by this time(and I think I was probably powered by adrenalin if I'm honest) and I managed to drive the 30 odd miles back home. Got in, called a taxi and took myself to A&E. Here is what is left of my helmet.
After X rays it turned out I had broken my collarbone as well as the obvious concussion. My good lady came back from Glasgow and I was finally released from hospital at 10 on Saturday night-just in time to avoid most of the regular Saturday night drunken a
hole crowd. The doctor was satisfied that there was no lasting effects, although what follows may make her reconsider....As it is my left shoulder driving is possible but a manual is a no-no-especially the Porsche which has a pretty hefty shift action at the moment. So I thought, better get a cheap, sensible auto to get around in for a couple of months.
So yesterday i came home with this.
A 1994 vintage Jaguar XJ6 3.2 Sport. 68k genuine going by history/MOT's and giffer owned for 10 years from 2004. MOT til December and Tax til August. It has had a bump at the front so needs a bumper and bonnet replacing, I will tackle that when I'm in better health. Drove fine on the way home so it will be getting pressed into service for the next couple of months and then passed on, hopefully in a better state than when I got it.
So in summary, looking for an excuse to buy an old barge? Knock yourself out...
- Not being rude, it really is called a Handjob. Bloody excellent bike, with a slightly naughty name.
Edited by dome on Thursday 1st May 21:18
Similar story from a friend who used to do a lot of biking at Glentress, but having thrown it away down the hill and woken up in a heap he actually drove himself to Borders General.
There they stitched his multiple wounds and discharged him since he told them his parents would be around to look after him when he got home.
By this stage however, he had been married and living with his wife for ten years and his parents didn't even live in the same house any more.
The poor woman who answered the door to his confused knocking called the police and he was returned to BGH in the back of a plod car...
There they stitched his multiple wounds and discharged him since he told them his parents would be around to look after him when he got home.
By this stage however, he had been married and living with his wife for ten years and his parents didn't even live in the same house any more.
The poor woman who answered the door to his confused knocking called the police and he was returned to BGH in the back of a plod car...
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