It is cold, wet dark. It is storming and wet blobs of snow are coming down. The bright lights on my Guzzi Cal II blame the white slurry.
It is a quarter to eleven as in '22.45 hour'. I'm tired, on my own all the way and twenty minutes from home. And I have to pee a lot. The water is right in my mouth, but before I have found my hide-in-hide in this misery behind five layers of textile? I don't have to think about it and give it more gas.
Someone is waving a lantern. To prove the absurdity of the system, there is a completely equipped alcohol and paper control team around 22.45 in a wet snowstorm. The policeman tells me in an accusing tone that I was driving too fast. My papers, I can easily reach that. I give her my wallet and call over my shoulder: "Of course I went too fast. I have to piss enormously! Be right back!"
It takes a while before everything is stored away again. The law enforcement officers are all back in their van with double-glazed windows. The side door is open. Due to my unique, 'supersize me' format due to a five-layer appearance topped by my Difi thermo-overall, there is no chance that I can reach it. So I stay a little bent next to the van.
The officer still remarks that my toilet break lasted very long. ”Dabbling through five layers of clothing and then getting a refugee crawling back with cold fingers is hard to hear! If you could have done that faster you would have had to walk along. I think you also have fewer cold fingers. "
The agent becomes assertive. An older male colleague gives me back my wallet and asks kindly “But why are you on a motorcycle with this bad weather? A bet or something? A birth. Quarrel at home? ”I point outside. "No, it is not. Nothing wrong. It was a little later than I thought. That thing out there is just my car. Handy with traffic jams and such. "
The officer raises a bushy eyebrow and says, "In this weather, I'd rather be in a traffic jam." The agent reports that the breath test prescribed in the scenario has not yet taken place. The older officer kindly asks: “Have you been drinking?” “Not yet, but if you have a drink for me now.” “We shouldn't do that, you go. Be careful and have a good journey. "
The officer corrects him: "But this gentleman was driving too fast and he hasn't blown yet."
The Chief Guard is looking at his puppy fatherly. “A motorcyclist on the road with this weather is either very stupid or very experienced. And if it had been very stupid, it would have killed itself much earlier. So he didn't drink and only drove too fast because he had to pee. "
I put on my helmet and put on my gloves. As a goodbye I press my horn button. The double FIAMMs give their highly illegal loco of 142 dB (A). Beautiful. Home.
From: Men, motorbikes and (what) girls, ISBN 978-94-6247-007-1 at Bestelmijnboek.nl and bol.com