Brexit rules

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Purchasing classics there

Hoppa! Off to England! Such a pound is worth 300 grams at most. England is free and for the time being a full English breakfast was even more dangerous than Corona would be made. Of course we take the boat, not the tunnel. Motorcyclists are often latently claustrophobic.

Taking the ferry is a much more real start to a journey. That journey already begins when bunches are thrown loose and a grumpy seagull makes a lunge at your butt. Once across the road, the British have made it almost impossible for you to drive on the right side of the road. Incidentally, to estimate motorcyclists as 'continentals' is difficult for the thirsty inhabitants of the increasingly fading island. After all, the handlebars on our motorcycles are not visible 'on the other side'.

But we get used to each other, the British and the five of us. Things got tricky when a British Vulva pilot at the same time decided to turn right. Then you suddenly pick up a few hundred meters of black clay. With a wide, peacock tail of small stones behind you. Of course one is Triumph Trident T 150 Trident by far the best steering engine in the universe known to us, but still ...

As a rider you know that all your guardian angels have to go to physio with sprained wings after such an action. But the two men behind me were impressed because I had dodged the Vulva broadly. Only when they saw my spasmodically wide open eyes did they realize that there was "pure luck" here.

And then it is typical of England that the Volvooiers came back, got out with the whole family and completely forgot in a full 'I am so very sorry!' act for two adults and three children. “Nice to meet you family Sorry. I am Geert ”, fellow traveler Geert responded calmly as always.

But everything worked out and the Sorry family invited us to an anti-scare lock in the pub down the road. The eldest daughter had been looking at Sven dreamily all along. The good mother had been doing that out of the corner of her eye all along. Sven simply has that effect on women. He is not so bothered, because he is committed to men's love. When it comes up somewhere in the conversation, he always reports it neatly. The most common next step is that the lady in question then estimates that her choice has been made out of traumatic considerations and that he can only be saved when he gets to know true Love.

The pub was cozy. The Sorry family was known there. Many people were shuffling on it and the English beer remains reason enough to pull the island off its anchors and push it far into the ocean even after the third pint. We carefully ordered some stronger. Somewhere in the shadows, Sven was talking to the barmaid. The voluptuous bar babe gestured imperiously to the star-studded motorcyclist with his Mediterranean curly head and sparkling brown eyes, white teeth and masculine jawline. While we decided to store the tents in the back of the pub garden, we saw Sven and his femme fatale disappear together. Sven looked like healed again.

The more I think about it, the more sure I know: our friend is just a straight with a top puss.

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