old-timer

Well actually I found this article (picture below) when I googled 'TMBF'. And as you can see, it wasn't me making up some meaning of the abbriviation 'TMBF'. It really exsits... Must admit though that I haven't a clue from which scientific discipline this is... I'm just a stupid low-lander who likes motorbikes... . And there's another one I found: . So it might be wise to call 'our' TMBF, TMBF-UK...

So I thought I have a look (Google) to see what TMBF has accomplished over the years... I must say: Impressive ! Not that I have the foggiest... what this is about. But clearly there is an enormous difference between 'TMBF ON' and 'TMBF OFF'. And since red is my favourite color (see my F650 Funduro) I say keep TMBF ON ! Anyhow, congratulations TMBF ! Wondering what I find in another 12 years...

Voluntarily or involuntarily ? I'm not sure why you ask... But nobody had to twist my arm to make me post this song... Happy new year

The Pogues Featuring Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale Of New York https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l14aDp-4NKk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcDVH8DiBnM

An English version of the great chanson 'dans le port d'Amsterdam' by the Belgian singer Jaques Brel, sung by one of the greatest singers, David Bowie. Port of Amsterdam. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=logGmozHfG4

Well, at least your speed limits are in Mph, overhere it is even worse, we have limits in KM/h...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmELS03_4So

Ha ha ha ... Thanks ! What was the experession again ? "Every day a school day !"

Sorry for my late response, I've been picking up my freshly bought used motorbike, so I was more or less occupied... I fear that Stu's mate's response says it all, really. Though I don't quite understand his remark about sleeping police men... Especially when there are events in Assen, one must be sure not to exceed speed limits in that area or they hunt you down with AK-40's... But yeah, we do have lots of villages along secondary roads and only few roads are interesting to ride. Most of them are boring and straight. Only good thing about these roads is that, unlike in the UK, they pass by these villages instead of going straight through their crowded centres. But that hardly makes them interesting to ride. I'm sorry that I have to say this about my own country, but it is the way it is... When we want to ride nice exciting roads, we mostly go to Germany or Belgium ( the Ardennes that is. Flanders is just as bad as NL). I wished I could be more positive, but Holland just happens to be flat, and small, and there are 17 million of us, packed in little villages... I do hope that you will enjoy 'Assen' though. Have a good trip !

Rotterdam - Hull is not my favourite crossing really. It is a very long journey, and I don't care much for ferries. And it is more expensive than the Dover ferry. Plus... I heard that some very strange people live in Hull... I prefer Dunkirk - Dover or Calais - Dover. Even (especially) if it means a longer bike-trip to/from the ferry both in Europe and in England. Ferry-journeys are boring, bike-trips are a treat ! But I'll see when and where the rally will be exactly and how much time I've got.

Rotterdam - Hull is not my favourite crossing really. It is a very long journey, and I don't care much for ferries. And it is more expensive than the Dover ferry. Plus... I heard that some very strange people live in Hull... I prefer Dunkirk - Dover or Calais - Dover. Even (especially) if it means a longer bike-trip to/from the ferry both in Europe as in England. Ferry-journeys are boring, bike-trips are a treat ! But I'll see where the rally will be exactly and how much time I've got.

I second Brighton ! Or anything near Dover, like Eastbourne, Hastings, Folkstone... But I fear that campings along the coast only [except aaaghh... stupid mistake... this is what I meant-->] accept pure Gold as a currency in Summer ... But seroiusly, I would like to visit your Rally if possible. You know, I joined this Forum for I was planning a camping trip to the Lake District by bike last year. Did not turn out that way, I went by car with the wife instead. Great trip, great holiday, no problem there, as some of you know from my posts at the time. But I still would like to come over to the UK bij bike some day; it has been such a long time. Now I overheard my wife and daughter plotting a 'girls only' trip to Italy for them two plus my daughter's 2 daughters in August. No boys allowed... So I'm hoping that I can sneak out when they are abroad, and come over to England.... I think anything up to the Midlands is doable, since I would cross to Dover. So I'll see what comes out of the poll. I'll leave my preferences in there too, need to consult a map though to see what is where. Oh, and maybe you won't expect this from a Dutchman, but I would very much like a social event... ! Yes!

Sorry mate, no can do... We only got it from Poland or Russia ourselves and there is no way to send it back. I fear that you'll just have to make do... Tell you what though, if you don't like it you can always put it in a dark corner of some cupboard. Next to other presents you never liked, like auntie Jane's vase. Only to be taken out, and put in a prominent place, when auntie visits you. Still, I hope that this new year will be to your liking and that it will be better than we one we just left...

New year came along here about half an hour ago. It's looking quite good, so I sent it on... your way. It'l be across the North Sea in about 30 mins. Have a good year you all!

Nice singer Rennie. I like her characteristic voice, so I gave her youtube video a 'like'. During 'Christmas season' this is my favorite song: The Pogues Featuring Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale Of New York https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l14aDp-4NKk

No... ! I did not 'steal' Tango's christmas card. I merely used it for inspiration .

DREAMBIKE. Martin stopped at the front door and took a deep breath before he opened it. Hardly able to make his legs move, he stepped into the little hall and closed the door. He would normally just drop his briefcase anywhere on the floor, kick off his shoes in the corner, throw his coat towards the coat rack and 'squeeze' Karen to greet her. But his current mood did not allow for such a carefree routine. This time he carefully put his briefcase and shoes aside and even took a coat hanger for his coat, trying to stall. Trying to delay the inevitable bad tidings he had to bring to Karen. But how do you tell your loved ones that you are going to lose your job? Karen heard him making little noises in the hall, but he did not show. She stuck her head around the door to see what was keeping him and saw his face. Never saw him so sad... "What happened dear" she asked anxiously as she put her arms around him. Martin swallowed before he said with a sigh: "Heard today. We are going to be taken over indeed, and much faster and rigorously then expected. They don't even wait till next year. They are going to abrogate all our supporting and administrative departments before december. Production will be controlled directly from the new head office. Department gone, job gone, just good luck finding a way yourself to survive... Or house, mortgage. Lars's school... How on earth..." Karen put her finger over his mouth. "Come dear, lets first sit down and have a cupper. Don't worry now. We'll talk it over later and try to get an overview of the situation. See what we can and what we must do. I'm convinced we'll find a way". "If need be I'll sell the motorbike", he said with a mix of despair and fighting spirit". "OK, if that's what it takes we'll do that", she said, "but let's have some tea first now". "Guys, look here, see ? That's what I mean". Victor showed the advert to his mates. "Exactly what I'm looking for; such a cool bike ! I would really like to have such a moped. And look at the mileage, serviced at the dealer's, indoor sleeper, tyres good as new... Even the colour is spot on and it has all 'my' accesoires I I saw one drive by the other day, man, what a beauty". He sighed "only, look at the price...". "Not at all unreasonable dude, for such a machine" Ed said, "in such a condition you could not find one cheaper, I'm sure. Especially not at the dealer's, though you'll get warranty then". "Sure... OK", Victor agreed, "for this machine the price is not bad, but you know, budget...". "Ach, c'mon you moneybags you. You earned a really nice bonus for Christmas, you told us", Ed said. "Oh yeah sure, I cannot complain", Victor said, "but I cannot just go and spend it all on me. It was great of Ellen to allow me to buy a new bike anyhow, but we agreed on a budget and I just have to stick to that, you know. And there is still a baby room needed soon, remember ?" Ed nodded understandingly. "I guess you could still negotiate the price", Josh said, "look it says 'due to circumstances'. Doesn't say what these circumstances are, but it looks like someone is trying to sell his bike in a hurry". "Yeah but it could also be a trick when there is something wrong with it of course", Ed said. Victor did not reply. In a pile of bike magazines in the corner of the room, he found one, from some time ago, with a test of 'his' bike. On the floor, beside his chair, there was a more recent magazine that contained impressions and summaries from owners of this machine. So no, Victor was not in this world anymore. After Martin and Karen had made an overview of the situation, they decided indeed to sell the motorbike. Not just for the money they would get, but also to economise on expenses like insurance, road tax, maintenance, etc. She was working still, but his income was some petty unemployment benefit and heaven knows for how long. Most important was that they could keep on paying the mortgage. And that they would have some savings when Lars was going to secondary school next year. They were aware that there would still be some expenses coming up; for instance a new bike for Lars, as his new school was in the next town. They wanted to be prepared in time, so Martin decided to have his bike for sale asap; delay would be futile. Unfortunately, nobody showed any interest lately, in spite of the more than reasonable price. He was a bit disappointed, though he did not really expect anything different. But since it was December now, he started to worry somewhat. "December already and no one replied", he said to Karen. "Well of course it's not really the best time of the year. First of all, few people buy a motorbike in winter, due to the weather and salty roads and so on, and besides, they know of course better ways to spend their money this time of the year. Oh well, we'll just have to see what happens, what else can we do...?". And then he unexpectedly got a phone call. Karen heard him naming details of the bike, it's current state, a short summary of it's maintenance, an finally the price. "All right", she heard him finish the conversation, "yes of course, a test ride is self-evident. OK, see you tomorrow, Thank you.". He looked relieved at her when he put the phone down, "Finally someone is interested. They are coming tomorrow". "That bike is still for sale", Josh said to Victor. "He is not going to sell it just like that in winter. Reasonably priced or not. There are few people buying bikes now, in December most pennies have gone... Did you discuss it with Ellen at all by the way, Vic or are you really not interested? You realize that this is a 'one off', don't you ?". Ed said: "I told my brother George about it, and he was quite confident that you could get the bike for half the money, you know. He knows a little scheme, to be performed with a few mates, where the owner would be grateful in the end that you took that pile of junk off his hands, George says". "Yeah right", Victor replied. "We all know Georges 'little schemes' by now. But I don't want to have to call Ellen again to come and get me from the police station... OK ?" "No, no, nothing illegal. No break-ins, nor nicking, no threats or anything like that. It will be up to the owner to sell or not at all times. Well OK, just let me know if you are interested. But remember it could be the difference between 'missing the boat' so to speak and riding your dream bike"... Victor said nothing, he just stared and thought. He then slowly shook his head: "No". But Ed's words just would not leave him in peace. Not even at night: "riding your dream bike". In the morning he called Ed up to learn more about George's plan: "Yo Eddy, do tell me mate...". Martin had parked the motorbike in front of his house. After Ed introduced himself and brother George to him, they focussed on the bike. "Looking quite good", George said, thus starting the 'ritual'. The brothers circled the bike, looked at it from a distance of a few feet, like you observe a piece of art, focussed on details from really close, went down on their knees even, trying to see underneath, squeezed handles, tested switches.. Posed questions about this, about that, mumbled in themselves or to each other, pointed with their fingers, looked content or sometimes surprised or critical. Martin on his part answered questions truly and honestly, explained, explicated, and tried wherever he could to emphasise that the bike has always been treated and maintained meticulously and that it 'slept' in the garage.. They talked about this difficult time to sell a bike and the price. Martin explained his situation - without going into details, of course - and said with determination that it would be a good thing if he could sell, but that this was a fixed price. He would not sell for less. He had prepared himself well and he knew exactly what these bikes were worth. George had brought his suit and helmet and took the bike for a test ride, while Martin went inside with Ed to show him all documentation, service books and so on. After a while George returned. He put the bike on its stand but left the engine running. Martin and Ed joined him. George was on his knees beside the motorbike, his ear as close to the hot engine as he dared, and listened carefully. He got up, killed the engine, gave the key to Martin and said calmly: "Yah... now I understand why you’re asking such a low price. "Beg your pardon?", Martin looked confused. "I say, it won't take long anymore before it's big-end is coming out. Martin turned pale and his mouth went dry. "Excuse me, but I don't know what you are talking about. To my knowledge it must be in top condition, it has always been serviced on t..." George explained to Martin that it would be a big and expensive job. The engine had to be removed and opened. They would be able to fix that themselves, but they could not possibly offer more than half the asking price. Martin declined. Said that he wanted to try and find out what exactly was wrong and that he did not want to sell it in this state. The parted politely, thanked each other for their trouble and the brothers left again. In the car George started to chuckle and said, "That was phase 1, next is Josh's turn. Ed did not feel happy at all but George did not notice. A few days later Josh phoned Martin; could he have a look at the motorbike, and perhaps make a test ride ? He never got to a test ride though. When he came to look at the bike he started the engine, listened attentively for a while and promptly switched it off. "The bearings are on the verge of collapsing. But I guess you discovered that yourself already did not you ?", he said almost accusatory. He did not even make an offer, said that he did not care for such a treatment, and left. On the way back Josh was not at all proud of himself. After Josh left, Martin had been crawling in despair, on hands and knees, around the bike with running engine for fifteen minutes. He did not understand at all. OK, he was no mechanic but he could hear absolutely nothing wrong in there. With tears in his eyes he informed Karen. They had no money for expensive repairs, he said, so if someone should be interested it was best to except a lower offer... About a week later, Victor himself made the kill; he got the bike for almost half the price. When they went to collect the motorbike two days before Christmas day - Ellen took him by car -, Karen invited them in for a cup of tea. Victor got a bit anxious and pretended he could not wait to enjoy his new bike; he wanted to take off immediately. However, Ellen found they could not just decline such a friendly offer and so they had tea. Ellen's round belly was the reason for some interested questions back and forth; "when is de baby due, have you already prepared the baby room ?". And "well well, so your son is going to secondary school". It was a pleasant, enjoyable conversation. Though Martin and Karen were in no way complaining, the reason for selling their bike did come up. Ellen nodded sympatatically, Victor had already mentioned it to her. In the car on the way back home, Ellen was wondering about one particular remark from Karen. "Good thing that Victor is such an able 'grease monkey'", Karen said, " Unfortunately Martin has no head for technics at all, it would have saved us a lot if he had!". "Victor a grease monkey?". Ellen thought, "Yeah right... I bet he has been telling big stories again. I'll ask him later...". That afternoon Victor had some business in the shopping centre. There were Christmas decorations all around; colourful balls, Christmas trees, fake snow, little Santa dolls everywhere, And of course stables and cribs, figures of three wise men, shepherds with sheep and donkeys. From loudspeakers 'Jingle bells' and 'white Christmas' terrorized your ear-drums. In the central hall, intersection of the many shopping 'tunnels', there was an impressive figure sitting on a kind of throne: Father Christmas. On the very same spot where last week shabby loud Santa Clauses with bells were making false promises to toddlers. But this was not just any old Santa, with a glorified red bath-robe and a beard of cotton wool. This was a majestic figure with silver-grey natural hair and beard, wearing a satin red robe with pure white furry trims. "Wow", Victor thought, "this might just as well be the real one". And suddenly he froze...; "but it is... it's him. It is the real Father Christmas". A shivering crept through him when Father Christmas looked straight at him and followed him with his eyes. All of a sudden he stretched his arm and pointed at Victor who was glued to the spot and could only stare like hypnotized at him. The world around Victor seemed to fade and as if in a trance, he saw Father Christmas talk. He did not hear him through his ears, but his head seemed to fill up with father Christmas's words: "Did you really want that motorbike so bad that you degrade yourself by using underhand dodges, Victor ? Why let dubious advisors without scruples drag you into devious solutions ? That's not at all like you, is it son? You do know that honesty is the best policy, don't you? And yes, maybe anyone and everyone could sometimes make the wrong decision in a fit of indolence, greed, thoughtlessness... But this just has to be put right, you understand ? It really has to ! And when you do, I give you one at Christmas. A dream motorbike. Promise ! The world around him slowly came back. Amazed and dazed he quickly walked on. He did not know fast to get home. Once outside the shopping centre, doubts hit him. Great doubts... What the hell has he been doing. What was he thinking ? And... how to tell Ellen...? "WHATT", she roared, You did whatt ?". Ellen was shocked. Victor looked ashamed at the floor. When Ellen asked him about pretending to be a 'grease monkey' he confessed how they made Martin believe that his bike's engine was as good as ruined. And how Victor told him that he could fix the problem himself, being a 'grease monkey'. And how Martin then, in despair, sold him the bike for peanuts. "How in heaven's name could you do such a thing ?", Ellen trembled with resentment, her eyes were spitting fire. "They are such lovely darlings. Not a shred of suspicion or mistrust towards others. Friendly, hospitable...". Victor swallowed, he really did not know what to say. "Worst of all", she continued, "those people have a huge problem. And you took advantage of the situation; kicking them when they were down. Disgusting... Another bright idea of those mate of yours, no doubt". "No, not the boys", he said timidly. "George, Ed's bro..." "Oh wow, George, right...", she interrupted him "Well if George says it's OK. That makes it all right then, does it ?. So you 're not responsible ? How could you Vic, how on earth could you ?" "We must return the bike", Victor suggested. "Oh yes, you bet we are going to take it back. Tomorrow. And you are humbly going to apologize. And do I have a surprise for you; you are not going to buy another motorbike, for we are NOT going to take our money back from Martin!" "Tomorrow is the 24th", Victor said softly. "So what ?". "Well, Christmas eve. We could not just drop in unannounced on Christmas eve, could we ?". "No, we are going in daytime. They will be at home. Karen has a day off". Victor nodde, "OK, you are right, I really don't know what came over me, but we do have to put it right. That's what Father Christmas said too". Ellen looked at him, "Father Christmas? What Father Christmas? What are you talking about ? He told her about the impressive Father Christmas on the throne in the shopping center, who adressed him about the way he obtained the bike. "He even knew my name, and he was really austere and scary", Vic still got the creeps thinking about it, "I felt like a 5 year old boy". Ellen now looked at him puzzled and said: "but there's never been a Father Christmas on a throne in there. There have been some noisy Santa's with bells yelling "ho, ho, ho", but that was all. Victor looked at her, confused, "But off course there was. He talked to me, rebuked me. I... I... believe me, really I swear!". Ellen noticed that he meant it 100 %. Wether he imagined it or not, for him it really happened, this was the truth. Victor felt a bit dizzy and his heart was pounding in his throath. Wat had happened overthere? Who did he see, who was is that talked to him ? Martin and Karen were surprised if not overwhelmed when Ellen, Victor, Ed and Josh suddenly appeared on their doorstep with a big bunch of flowers. After Victor had called his mates to tell them that Ellen an he decided to return the bike and apologize, they said that they wanted to come too. They did not feel good at all about the role they played in the whole scheme and they wanted to apologize personally too. Ed said that George did not see anything wrong in what they did though. The stupid owner should not have been so naif, it was his own fault, George said. Martin was especially happy to find out that he was not insane after all, and initially did not want to keep the money. "Oh yes you do!" Ellen said determined and somewhat snappy "you have absolutely earned it". Karen started to laugh and said with a big smile: "Wow... you can be quite bitchy sometimes, can't you ?". "Well, what do you think, with this bunch of 'grown up' monkeys about the house", she replied. On Christmas morning, after Victor and Ellen had exchanged their presents, they spotted a package, under the tree, a bit hidden and aback. They looked at each other, but they both swore that they did not put it there. There was a label, it read "For Victor, as promised". "As promised ?", he looked at her, puzzled. Then he he shrugged his shoulders and unwrapped it. It was a scale model of his dreambike. Meticulously detailed, in the right colour and with all accesories; exactly like the original. In a display box of a kind of transparant perspexl, in which, in relief letters, brand, model and type had been etched. "Unbelievable", he said surprised, 'if I would be scale 1:10 myself, I could take off on it just like that! What an extraordinary quality. I have never ever seen a customised scale model of a motorbike, who on earth can the manufacturer be?". He turned the box over, on the bottom he read: "FCASMC". The text was underlined with an extra bold line. "Hmmm" he said, "I never heard of that brand". "Hang on", Ellen said. "That is not an underline, it looks like very dense very small bold print". She went to fetch her gandmother's embroidery magnifying-glass and gave it to him. He was completely dumbstruck when he read: “Father Christmas’s Authentic Scale Model Company”. The End.

As promised, here's another one of the bike related Christmas stories. It is from 2015 called: 'DREAMBIKE'. You'll find that it is of a completely different kind than the two I posted before. Still it is 'more or less' a christmas story and 'more or less' bike related. After this one I won't bother you again with stories in the forum. If any of you should be curious about the other stories that I have translated so far, then please do visit the page with 'bike related christmas tales' in English on my website. The link below takes you straight to this page. http://snellbos.nl/kerstmenu/xmas-tales-gb.html If I may, I would especially recommend the story of 2011, called: 'REUNION'. It consists of 2 parts, and it is a follow up on the characters of the first story I posted here; 'KINDRED SPIRITS'. So, below you find today's story called : 'DREAMBIKE'.

PENNIES FROM HEAVEN. Around mid-December there was a remarkable post in Motor Bike Forum Holland, MBF-H From an off-road bike, secured with a heavy chain to a fence of a church square, the seat had been destroyed with a knife. The stuffing was hanging out almost completely. Resentment in every reply in the topic; who the hell would do such a thing... Less than a week later, the same poster had posted a picture of the fence of the church square from which, attached with a heavy chain, a luggage rack of a motorbike was hanging. But no bike to be seen. The post said that the bike, a specially prepared off-road thumper, had been stolen. The thieves apparently unscrewed the luggage rack and just left it hanging, when they removed the bike. It was the same bike of which the seat had been damaged some days before. "Now wat deranged mind would do a thing like that. And why ?", topic starter, a mate of the bike owner, was wondering. The bike had absolutely no market value. It only had a value for its owner Walter. He adjusted the bike to his personal wishes and had just come back from a 6 months journey in Africa. A mate of his had made the luggage rack especially for him. Because Walter wanted a single-seat, his mate had made him a large, extra-long rack. And now that was all that was left of the bike; the luggage rack.. In the forum everyone was asked to help look out for his unique, well identifiable bike. A few days later again, Edward, our topic starter, posted a very worrying message; Walter himself had disappeared. His girlfriend Julia, with whom he had made the journey in Africa, had reported him missing to the police when he did not come home one night. He apparently followed up a tip that came through the forum, but all they were sure of was that he left on Julia's off-road. Edward now asked everyone to look out for Walter himself, and his motorbike as well as Julia's motorbike. Hers was the same brand and type as Walter's, only not prepared so extremely, and silver-grey instead of black. Walter meanwhile lay, hands and feet tied with a rope, on a bed in a caravan, still wearing his biker gear. The caravan stood in a farmer's barn of sorts. Although a small gas-heater was burning, it was anything but warm in there. His bike lay in the barn, completely disassembled and cut into small pieces. The seat, totally shredded lay on a work bench. Three men, South-Africans, were examining each piece meticulously. They had taken Walter by surprise at a petrol station, dragged him into a large van and brought him to this place. In the van his bike also stood, still completely intact at that time, apart from the shredded seat. He had followed up a PM from a forum member who said that he saw a unique off-road being loaded into a large van in some parking lot in their village. The van did not take off though, they appeared to be waiting for something or someone still. Walter immediately took Julia's bike and drove to the spot. There he saw how a car arrived and a man got out and into the van, which took off at once. He pursued the van without thinking twice. The journey seemed endless and he almost ran out of petrol when the men stopped at a petrol station. They parked the van and disappeared around the corner of the station. He was in doubt, should he fill up first, or call Julia to let her know where he was. He decided to call first. She did not answer, so het texted her: "Following thieves of my bike now, going east". He was suddenly grabbed from behind and a hand was put over his mouth. His mobile was snatched from his hand. Three men dragged him to the van and pushed him into the back, right beside his own motorbike. Hands and feet were tied with pieces of rope, and they took off. To his surprise they did not take Julia's bike. If they wanted to steal this type of bike, than Julia's bike was a lot more attractive than his old customised pile of junk. Hers looked a lot better and was younger and completely in its original state. After a while they arrived at a seemingly abandoned farm. They untied his feet and 'supported' by the three he was taken to the caravan. On the dirt road running by the farm he heard a heavy off-road pass by, but he was not able to attract the rider’s attention. The heavy hum blew off in the distance... In the caravan they tied his legs again and they checked the ropes around his wrists. The men then took his bike from the van into the barn and started to disassemble it and cut it to pieces. Walter was totally puzzled. A fourth post from Edward reported the discovery of Julia's bike. It stood with an almost empty tank, but completely intact, at the parking place of a petrol station in the east of the country, the keys still in it. Nobody had seen what happened to the biker nor which way he went; the police had no further leads. Everyone in that corner of the country was asked to keep a look out for Walter, his bike and anything that looked at all suspicious. The forum 'trembled' with resentment by now, and anger rose with every post and reply... Walter meanwhile started to get a bit understanding of what was going on. At first the men would just murmur a bit when he asked them, but they reassured him saying that it was not about him. They would not take long, and he would be released unharmed. Wat they were doing with his bike and why it had been shredded into a million pieces by now remained a mystery. The men spoke 'Afrikaans', which originated from Dutch, so Walter could understand a bit what they said. From their conversation he got the impression that they were searching for something. He finally made out that something has been hidden in his bike which he, without knowing, had smuggled to Holland. So, what is very valuable, originally from South-Africa, and small enough to hide in a motorbike ? Indeed, diamonds ! Now when he and Julia stayed in Bloemfontein for a few days, they had their bikes serviced, and some small things fixed, by a local motorbike dealer. They left their bikes for a few days, while they made some small trips in the area on an old Transalp they borrowed from the dealer. The mechanic/owner, a guy called Georgie, was a cool dude. He had serviced both machines thoroughly, and replaced a few dodgy spokes in Walters wheel. He further welded a small tear in his luggage rack - Walter had not even noticed - which he, on top of that, had reinforced by adding two connections of extra sturdy tubes. Julia's front wheel bearing was replaced, and all that at a more than fair price. Walter now suspected that Georgie hid diamonds in the bike during services. They had even exchanged addresses and now it was clear to Walter how they knew where to find his bike. Later, he understood from the conversation of the South Africans, that in the seat of his bike a raw diamond of nearly 400 carat must have been hidden. And he now also remembered that during his stay in South Africa in 2008, a raw diamond had been found in the Lent Seng Diamond Mine in Lesotho on 22nd of September. It was a whopper of 478 carat, and according to experts of "purest white". At the time the official news in newspapers and on television only reported the find of this giant. But he also kind of 'sensed' that there was a 'whisper in the street' that a second stone, a bit smaller in size, was found, but it seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Of this assumed second stone however, there was no mention in the news; officially there was no second stone. Walter speculated that this "little brother' of the Lent Seng diamond had been smuggled to Holland in his bike, and is now probably on its way to Amsterdam or Antwerp, the two leading diamond industries of the low countries. The gang clearly had already found that diamond, hence the shredded seat on the workbench. So why his bike had been stolen and cut to pieces was still a mystery, but it became clear a little later. He perked up his ears when 'Georgie' the name of the mechanic, came up. The men discussed how he cheated someone called 'Auntie'. He apparently stole quite a lot of cut diamonds from Auntie and hid them in Walter's bike with destination Holland. They discussed the value of the set, and with the change rate of the Rand still in his head, Walter estimated it at about 30- to 35,000 Euros. You had better not fool around with Auntie though, given the fact that Georgie did not survive the interrogation of Auntie's associates. But he apparently kept his mouth shut. In spite of everything, Walter was sorry to find out that Georgie was dead. He was a nice fellow anyhow. He told them that he was planning to see Walter and Julia in Holland at the beginning of the new year, though one could now wonder for what purpose... With the off-road in a thousand pieces scattered around them, the men were wondering where the hell Georgie could have hidden the stones. They could not imagine that he had hidden them in the engine... but they started to dismantle it anyway. They discussed the possibility that Georgie may not have been able to tell Auntie's men where they were hidden because he may never have stolen them. They were getting very anxious, anticipating that Auntie would not at all be amused if they did not find the stones, and would possibly not believe them. The possibility of Auntie sending her 'nephews' after them worried them a lot. They continued the search meticulously. Dirk came home after a bike ride on the dirt roads in the area. He did not have to go far to enjoy a bit off-roading on his motorbike, a big twin. "Hey dad", he said, "Has the lady next door come back to the farm ? I saw people walking in her yard. Yesterday too, by the way. I saw a biker who probably had a nasty crash. He was supported by 3 men who more or less carried him inside the barn". "Oh, that will be her nephew with some mates "' his dad answered, "They do come over to play on their off-road bikes more often. Keeping an eye on the place for her as well, since she has been away. I think that Mrs. van Veen still lives with her sister in town. She was quite upset after her divorce from that South African farmer. Good thing he went back to where he came from, I found him a peculiar fellow, so good riddens". End of story. Dirk took off his biker gear, put on his coverall and went to work on the farm. In the evening he was browsing a bit in the MBF-H. He only looked in the forum a few times a week, he did not much care for computers. He read Edward's topic and shook his head over the weird theft and the subsequent disappearance of this Walter. "Quite a bizarre case", he thought "and the trail seems to lead this way...". He suddenly jumped up, as if stung by a bee. His chair tumbled backwards and he excitedly hit with his hand on the table. "Supported ?, No way !" he exclaimed, "Taken away... The biker was taken away. Against his will. That was this Wally or whatsisname from the forum". "What the hell is wrong with you ?", his dad asked shocked " You fool, you nearly gave me a heart attack". Dirk explained what was going on in the forum and said, "The biker I saw at the neighbour's was not being supported because he fell, he is kept prisoner in Mrs. van Veen's farmhouse. I'll send a message to that Edward of the forum". After Edward had posted that he might know the presumed location where Walter was kept prisoner, more and more replies and reactions came in from forum-mates who wanted to jump into action immediately. But he was not allowed to share the info of where he thought the place might be. After Edward had informed the police, they instructed him not to give away the location and they forbade him to take action, with or without some mates, himself. It was possible, very likely even, that they were dealing with a criminal gang that might well be armed. As it was Christmas eve, the police needed a bit time to round up a 'detention unit' so: "For heaven's sake Edward," chief inspector De Wilde said, "just stay away and let us do the job. Before they start to suspect something and react in heaven knows what way. We'll keep you informed". And so, later that night CI de Wilde issued the message; Walter has been liberated, a police physician notified that all was well with him. He was being questioned now, and would be taken home afterwards. Edward posted the result in the forum. Just after 1 AM Walter came home and after a short account to Julia and a large whisky, he went to bed. He dreamed of bike trips and diamonds and South-Africa and... What the hell... a Christmas angel? He saw a vague figure floating high up in the air. A foggy, misty, kind of transparent shape with wings on its back. Like you sometimes see in children's story books. The angel came nearer and it's face became clearer and clearer. But... that is... that is... "Georgie ?", Walter whispered surprised. That was unmistakable the face of that cheerful mechanic from Bloemfontein. The face grinned, looked Walter straight in the eyes and said with a crazy 'hollow' voice: "They are mine, oh yes, they are mine. I paid for them. With my life. And that's why they are mine ! But they won't find them, oh no !" He laughed exuberantly: "Har har har... " I didn't tell them nothing. Nothing, you hear ? But they are no good to me over here... Means nothing over here. And so I want you to have them. You and your great girlfriend. You can have them... take them ! But don't let them have them, because they are your's... your's ! Har har har... I never told them nothing...". Then Georgie the Christmas angel rose back up in the air. Became more and more faint... From very high up he shouted to Walter: "You remember I fixed your luggage rack... Welded the rack... extra support tubes on the rack.... the rack... Merry christmasssssss". And he was gone. Walter woke up with a jolt, sitting upright in bed and whispered: "Georgie". It woke up Julia too, "who is Georgie", she asked. "Hey, you 're not having naughty dreams of this Georgina character from TV, are you ?", she added teasingly. She switched on the light and startled when she saw his paper white face. "Jeezzz, have you seen a ghost or so, love ?". "Yes... no... 'course not. Or.. ahm... maybe", he replied confused. He then asked: "Say, you haven't thrown away the luggage rack of my bike, have you ?" "Thrown away? Stuff from you ? No way ! You almost were hysterical when I put aside some rusty old nail". "That was not a nail, that was a lock pin of a...". "Yeah, yeah", she interrupted him, "but wat's been going on, did you have a nightmare or so?" "I saw Georgie, you know that mechanic from Bloemfontein. He passed away apparently, but he told me that something might be hidden in my luggage rack. Well, not in so many words, but he hinted in that direction". "Uhuh..."Julia said, "I get it. So he is dead now, but he came back to deliver a message to you about your luggage rack... Yeah, totally logical". "No, really, he came as a Christmas angel" Walter argued, "And he said that we could have them. Must get up, must get to the barn and grind the luggage rack open. Bet you it will be inside...". "Hey, you lunatic, it is Christmas, remember. And it's the middle of the night now, and you are waffling about a rack and the ghost of Georgie. Look, I know that you have been through a lot these days, but please, do try to get some sleep. You'll feel a whole lot better in the morning, I promise. The rack is going nowhere, and if you 're still sure there's stuff inside, then tomorrow...". After Walter had grinded the rack to pieces, there was a handful of little shiny "stones" in the old plastic butter container on the workbench. Julia picked one up from the floor and said: "Keep them ? You cannot be serious. Of course we cannot keep them, we should report this". "Oh no !", Walter said with determination, "it is ours. Georgie wanted us to have it. And he was the rightful owner because he paid for them. Dearly. With his life ! Besides I want compensation for my bike. And eh... didn't you want a new kitchen ?". They looked at each other and both burst out laughing. Grasping for air she said: "such a bunch of amateurs. Traveling the whole world over, doing whatever they can to get hold of the bike, and they leave the 'loot' hanging on some fence of a church square". She looked serious for a while, thinking. Then she smiled. "You know, you are right. It just had to be. This belongs to us, Christmas present from good old Georgie. What's the English expression again for something you receive unexpectedly. Something you never counted on ? Ah yes, I remember...: 'Pennies from heaven'. The End

About a year ago I found this forum and I joined up. I wanted to make 'contact' with British bikers, in case I would come over to the UK. At the time Mrs. Old-timer planned to go 'home' to visit her relatives in Finland in June, so I decided on a short bike-holiday in the Lake District. But come June, Mrs. decided not to go to Finland but to come along to GB instead. So the bike stayed at home and we went by car (well... Fiat Panda). We had a lovely time camping in the beautiful Lake District, as I reported to you afterwards. And though the bike-trip did not take place, I had a pleasant time last year in this forum. Last year December I also took the opportunity to post a so called 'motorbike related Christmas Story' in English in TMBF-UK. I had been writing and posting a motorbike related storie, or tale, for 3 Dutch Forums since 2006 before Christmas each year. I decided to translate them to English last year in order to share them with my foreign biker-fiends. The first edition in TMBF-UK in December 2016, was a 'pilot project' to find out what happens if I presented one to an actually English speaking audience. Well, as it did not get flushed through the toilet right away, I translated a few more to English, and I hereby take the liberty of posting one or two again over the next weeks till Christmas. I hope you will enjoy them but if not, don't blame me... You had your chance to stop the process last year... For those who missed it, here's a link to last year's story. I wrote the original in Dutch in 2008. It is called "Kindred Spirits". https://www.themotorbikeforum.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=62301&p=969692 And below you find the next one. I wrote it in 2012, it is called "Pennies from Heaven". Old-timer Huib.

If I had to give up either, I would simply give up living...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_XvKcLxj6I

Sorry I cheated (Google), but I won't give it away . I was curious since there were no other than the Blue/white ones in my little booklet of 'The Higway Code' that I bought in England. But that was many years ago, so I probably had better get me a new one next time I'm overthere...

[mention]Gerontious[/mention] That would be this one then ? You know I do drive in the UK sometimes, so I thought let's see how much I know of your signs. Many are similar to ours, but some look a bit 'strange'. Anyway I am not as much of a hazard as I feared I might be. Only mistake was the speed limit on a single carriage way, I though it would be 50 . So that's why I'm slowing down traffic all the time...