The Lake District is fantastic.
A motorcyclist stood after the blind turn. Recovery: a motorcyclist. A crumpled, angry looking copy. With wet, wispy blonde hair. She was muddy too. She made an emphatic stop gesture. "I hit a calf, my bike is down there." The calf was breathing bloody foam. KMZ sidecar drivers always have everything with them. From a one and a half ton jack, a concrete cutter, a spare wheel, a dynamo, points, a capacitor, strawberry jam, a Leatherman and of course a Buck knife. The calf was released from its suffering.
The motorcyclist was now sitting with her head between her knees
She looked up and grinned pale. "Please put the knife away before helping me". Slightly breathable and with a rather hasty pulse. Cold sweat on the forehead. From a technical point of view, she would be bright and blue tonight, and tomorrow she would be stiff. Complete with slight shock symptoms, Shay was sidelined.
At a B&B seven miles back, voluptuous landlady Maggie took loving care of her like a mother hen. Unpacked her. Was busy with iodine and band-aids. Put her in the bath. Carried and cherished. With Kenneth, the master of the house, the crashed DRBig was picked up. Once under the roof, Shay had called her friends at the campground. They arrived. The boys' club went to the Suzuki in the shed. Straighten things up and things. The damage was not too bad. Shay's friends arrived.
It became fun. It also became later
Maggie looked at her watch more often. Kenneth became so enthusiastic about all the feminine beauty that Maggie made a scene about it. Britons do have emotions. The fight started to get pretty out of hand. The cavalry decided to cancel. The DR was tied right behind the old Russian combination. You can never have enough rope and straps with you. Shay went back into jail with incipient stiffness.
It was too dark at the motorbike camping to set up tents
In times of need you get to know each other. "Moving up and thickening" was the solution to all problems. It was late, dark, wet and cozy. A supper was improvised well after midnight. There were peanuts, there was beer and gin. A three-quarter bottle of supermarket wine. Dried sausage, a can of peaches and some typical Dutch smoked goods came from the sidecar.
We Russians also always have medicinal alcohol with us.
That disinfects, relaxes and warms. With his five, the liter bottle of whiskey was turned into a whiskey bottle. That was a nice dessert and it helped to make coffee again. There were still cookies. A very relaxed sidecar driver happily fell asleep between an R80GS pilot and Shay, the DR rider. One snore slightly. The other moaned painfully as she turned on her breast side in her sleep. It was the most beautiful weather in the world when we got up. The girls called and cared for Shays - which was actually called 'Cheyenne' - repatriation. Saying goodbye. I prepared for another day at Lake District.