Motorcycle chronicles: featuring the goat

Unlike some of us, I don't own a Harley-Davidson and go on scenic drives toting my camera. Neither do I have any nearby castles to visit so my readers will have to be content with more pedestrian encounters. I'm not a weekend warrior - bikerspeak for those who ride bikes for recreation - and there's nothing wrong with being a one, it is probably more fun than battling traffic on a daily basis but I must confess that no amount of life-crises would make owning a Harley desirable in my eyes. I do like the idea of riding an electric bike, though. My vet's husband built one in his garage and he let me ride it once. An interesting and totally different driving experience. I like the idea of not paying for petrol ever again.

Today, I had to take a scenic drive because my mechanic lives in the country. Why would I drive so far just to see a mechanic? Anyone who has ever had a vehicle that isn't bank-funded, insured and on a maintenance plan knows the pain of being ripped off by incompetent mechanics churning vehicles through their workshop. My mechanic is someone I went to school with and over the years, he's proved to be reliable and affordable.

The annoying part of this is that I just spent a small fortune on solving the electrical problems that go with an 11-year-old workhorse and it was in his workshop for a few days a mere 2 weeks ago. On Saturday, I got to work, dismounted and noticed that there was oil all over my front wheel, front brake caliper and disc. NOT a good state of affairs. Further investigation showed that my front fork seal has collapsed. Two weeks ago, the suspension was hunky-dory with no sign of leaks. Now, it's spewing oil and requires immediate attention.

There was even oil on the tyre by the time I got to the workshop

I phoned on Monday to ask him to order spares and to book workshop time. I was warned that this would take all day so I decided to take lunch and walking shoes and go up the mountain and see what I can take pictures of. More on that later, but in the meantime, here is the resident goat, a typical rude billy-goat who likes to go around headbutting those who attempt friendly overtures or turn their backs on him.

Taking pictures from a distance: "he's a very silly goat" said the old man who works there. In the background, there are cat enclosures, there is a cat-boarding facility on the property.

Coming to inspect me: while it would be nice to take close-ups of this chap, I've been around enough goats to read that the body language isn't relaxed and it would be best to go away. Those horns are not small.

Luckily, the fork seal replacement didn't take too long and I was back on the road, with instructions to replace my brake pads very soon. That's something I'll do myself at home and the ride back was much more relaxed than the ride there, now that the suspension is functioning.

Tomorrow: pictures of pig poop