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Wrong time, wrong place


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Posting yesterday on the topic of avoiding Chinese bikes, I got to thinking about the time of a certain mishap that could never happen at a good time but happened at a pretty bad time.

I was enjoying a ride through the hills and pine forests nearby, on a main road when I opened the trottle after a bend and felt it twist all the way round as the engine started to die.

Oh well what a freaking suprrise, my Daelim is broken. This time it was the throttle cable snapping. There was a stone bridge up ahead with a pull in and I coasted in neutral into this refuge, thanking my luck that it had happened at a safe place.

Until the girl with practically nothing on emerged from her plastic chair by the roadside and approached. These women are commonplace in these parts, it is a sad indictment of human traffiking which is left relatively ignored by the powers that be.

'Oh shit' I thought and proceeded to examine my bike in urgent detail vainly attempting to ignore her.

She asked me if I was 'ok' and I explained what had happened. She just smiled and said 'Dont worry, you are not the first to be embarassed'.

Frantic twisting of the throttle handle did nothing to convince her that I was there for reasons other than servicing her trade (is that the right expression?)

And wouldn't you know it, a car passes with a neighbour giving me the wait till your wife hears about this look. I fished my phone out of the pocket which it seemed to have become glued to and rang the m/c garage for a recovery. I then rang my wife and told her what had happened and if the neighbour called round, explain what I was doing. Now, my wife has a wicked sense of humour.

'So you want me to believe that you just happened to break down, right next to a prostitute and you are calling because you have been seen by a neighbour. Do you think I'm stupid?'

Of course I don't, she married me.

Hasty denials in my frantic state merely fuelled her to berate me for why I actually bought the bike, ignoring the fact that she bought it for me as that is not the point...

The longest twenty minute wait of my life ensued, trying to stand apart from a now intrigued prostitute who is convinced that I am playing some sort of game. After two cars slowed down and saw her with a trick and so drove on, she began to think I was sent by a rival to spoil her trade and matters were not imporved when the van pulled up and two grinning employees jumped out. The poor woman now thought it was Christmas and that a x3 rate for one session was what I had been waiting for.

When she saw the men rolling my bike into the back of the van and me already sat in the middle seat she finally grasped what was happening. Being a keen student of languages, I learned several new words and phrases about my parenthood, the size of my you know what, several different versions of the see you next tuesday word and with a sigh of relief, we finally went on our way.

No one in the van said a word for a minute or so until the driver asked, 'So, how much does she charge?'

An hour later my wife arrives at the shop where the lads assure her that the cable really was broken but by then I know she never doubted me. Until one of the lads from the van shouted, 'How come she knew your name?'


Surely I am not the only one to have been a victim of wrong place, wrong time?

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Soooo the moral of the story...

When you go out looking for a lady of the night, if you get spotted, cut the throttle cable and call home blaming the chinese bike?

You're adding a whole new dimension onto why some people insist on owning the things :lol:

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The prostitutes in italy do the same.. lay-by just outside any city and theres a white plastic chair with a pro, usually on her phone, trying to look glamorous under a parasol. where it fails big time is anywhere near Naples.. because the city has run out of landfill for rubbish.. the lay-bys are piled high with bin bags full. more often than not 10 feet or more in hight.. and in the midst of this a whore. on the inevitable white plastic chair, parasol and phone - totally bizarre.

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