Wrenched
Despite today being Birthday Eve, and thus a day of presents from people who want to get in before the Birthday rush, I am feeling down.
I went down to Carousel shopping centre last night to look for a book, and, as Carousel is the world headquarters of the "buy what we have, not what you want" commercial philosophy, I failed. Possibly this is because the book I wanted was written by neither Dan Brown nor Jamie Oliver.
But on my way home I noticed that there was something wrong with the handlebars of my scooter. They were out of their usual alignment, so that I rode with my left arm slightly crooked and my right arm slightly stretched.
When I got home I tested the steering lock, and found that it was a lot looser than it had been before I went out. Hmm... handlebars bent... steering lock loose... I realised that while I was at Carousel looking for my book, someone must have tried to steal the scooter, wrenching the handlebars in an attempt to break the steering lock.
What a nuisance, I thought. I'll need to go to the motorbike place and get the handlebars straightened.
This moring I jumped on my scooter to go to work, and I stopped at the petrol station on the corner because I was low on fuel. As I was waiting in the queue, I decided to test the handlebars to see how far out of alignment they were. I turned them until I hit the left lock, and noted their position in relation to the rest of the bike. Then I turned them to the right lock... and turned... and turned... and turned... and when the right grip was pointing directly at my stomach, I realised that something was seriously wrong.
I looked over at the front wheel. It was pointing straight ahead.
The handlebars had become disconnected from the front wheel. The steering had completely gone.
If I hadn't stopped for fuel and tested the scooter, it's likely that I would have noticed this little malfunction a few hundred metres up the road instead, as I tried to exit the Ashburton Street roundabout and instead slammed facefirst into the powerpole on the corner.
I rang the police, but apparently 'attempted manslaughter' isn't a crime.
I went down to Carousel shopping centre last night to look for a book, and, as Carousel is the world headquarters of the "buy what we have, not what you want" commercial philosophy, I failed. Possibly this is because the book I wanted was written by neither Dan Brown nor Jamie Oliver.
But on my way home I noticed that there was something wrong with the handlebars of my scooter. They were out of their usual alignment, so that I rode with my left arm slightly crooked and my right arm slightly stretched.
When I got home I tested the steering lock, and found that it was a lot looser than it had been before I went out. Hmm... handlebars bent... steering lock loose... I realised that while I was at Carousel looking for my book, someone must have tried to steal the scooter, wrenching the handlebars in an attempt to break the steering lock.
What a nuisance, I thought. I'll need to go to the motorbike place and get the handlebars straightened.
This moring I jumped on my scooter to go to work, and I stopped at the petrol station on the corner because I was low on fuel. As I was waiting in the queue, I decided to test the handlebars to see how far out of alignment they were. I turned them until I hit the left lock, and noted their position in relation to the rest of the bike. Then I turned them to the right lock... and turned... and turned... and turned... and when the right grip was pointing directly at my stomach, I realised that something was seriously wrong.
I looked over at the front wheel. It was pointing straight ahead.
The handlebars had become disconnected from the front wheel. The steering had completely gone.
If I hadn't stopped for fuel and tested the scooter, it's likely that I would have noticed this little malfunction a few hundred metres up the road instead, as I tried to exit the Ashburton Street roundabout and instead slammed facefirst into the powerpole on the corner.
I rang the police, but apparently 'attempted manslaughter' isn't a crime.
posted by Blandwagon at 5:59 PM
2 Comments:
Just wanted to say Happy Birthday and congratulations on averting certain death. Yay for you.
On to the more mundane: do you read my blog? I know you do, admit it.
Happy Birthday!
I'm glad you didn't die. I worry about you, on that scooter... It doesn't keep me up at night, but I certainly don't nap as deeply in the afternoons.
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