Time has past and I think I can relate the events of a particular winter’s day without too much PTSD and without fear of releasing a trigger. Flat tyres … two in one day in fact …. One the same wheel ….. on a motorbike …. …
The first happened on a very crispy but clear watery winters day in the Kamberg Valley. After a festive family evening, the HF decided to visit our family fishing party for a morning breakfast on the banks of a farm dam at the head of the Kamberg Valley. Remembering that we live at the tail of the valley, and the road through the valley is the antithesis of a shining example of continuing road maintenances. Being a pink farm chick who likes to be dragged out of her comfort zone, and of a ballerina stature (nudge nudge wink wink …), I hopped on pillion for the adventure.
The first stop happened about 2 kms from home. HF stops and turns to me “just have a quick look down and check the rear tyre…” Through my jacket, gloves, glasses, and helmet visor, clutching onto my two allocated handles (don’t ask why I was not romantically hanging onto HF …), feet on my two allocated foot “rests” and looking straight ahead, I laughed …. Ok … sniggered. “There is no way I can possibly look down over all this ….” So we continued …. Me trying to enjoy the view and HF constantly looking left and right, “bakkie farming” or in this case moto bike farming. I should have known his eyes were not fixed on the road by the way I had to keep my jaw clenched for fear of biting my tongue off when we hit one of the many, many, …. oh so many …. potholes! I was just settling into the feeling of the open road … wind through my hair (ha ha) when we pull into our friend farm at the top of the valley. As we pulled up one of the reasons for the bone jarring ride was evident… we had a flat tyre. But not just flat it was almost concave it was so flat ……
Well no problem: we are on a farm with lots of help …. I thought….. it will get repaired and we can be on our way …. I thought …. Just time for a nice cup of tea and catch up and then we will be on our way…. I thought. Three hours and the tyre services from town later, we get back on the road. All thoughts of breakfast out our minds, focussing now on lunch. We should be home by lunch.
Mid-way through the gauntlet on our way home, HF stops and we have to disembark. Not hop off, it is a lot more complex than that. Flat number two … on the same rear tyre …. under the ballerina.
Our rescue party found us lying in the grass catching the winter sun … HF was a misnomer at this stage …..
“bakkie farming” is something farmers do as they travel along the country roads. It involves lots of sighing, the odd shake of the head and the odd nod and aaaahhhh. If it is taken to the extreme it may involve an emergency stop, closer look and a follow up phone call for advice and / or interrogation.
Pink Farm Chick 