Next month it's yours.

That's one of the most satisfying statements I've ever heard.

    Three years ago, when I didn't have much money - no change there, then - I bought a motorbike on tick, on the blob, or on finance if one was to be polite.

    I'm allowed five thousand miles per year on my insurance, so given that my job is approximately 17 miles away, at five, or sometimes six days a week times two, that easily overcomes my five thousand miles allotment. Well why don't you just pay the insurance company to increase it, then? Because it would cost me almost as much as buying a second bike.

    In the type of work I do, there is only one excuse for being late, or heaven forbid, not turning up at all, and that's death. Thus I always have two bikes, and if it just so happens that I get slaughtered on the way to work, as almost happens every single time I venture out into the cruel world, then so be it.

    Getting back to the ramble. The bike which is only one month from being solely mine has been the best I've ever owned; (apart from the one I had to sell that my darling daughter could have her first car. No bitterness there, honest) it never broke down, not once, except for stalling about two years ago when a truck knocked me off the road. In fact not so much as a tick out of place. So, mine forever.

    One the 8th of August, the day after it becomes mine, what am I going to do? Keep it? give it an extra nice polish job and a sloppy kiss? No.

    I'm going to sell it and get me another. Why?

    Cos' I can.