Now Tim was not above lobbing one off in style himself. His finest hour came on the run up the twisty hill from Shortlands to Bromley, on nothing less than Kwak 2 stroke (it may well have been a blue KH400: did they make those?)

Well, in any case it matters little, for our hero and his machine are soon to be parted: a tad too much entry speed, and panicky dab of the front brakes, and the rest is geography: a wonderful endo (4.2 degree of difficulty), ending in the total destruction of a large greenhouse set back just off the road ...

Realising he was in *deep* shit, Tim lay still; he had cut his hand badly on the glass, but was basically undamaged, and vowed to play the "injured" card as an old man and an old woman emerged from the house. Seeing his injured hand, the wife returned inside, while the husband proceeded to go spare at Tim. Tim, being smart, merely lay still and groaned ... Mrs Badcrumble emerged from the house with a bowl of liquid to clean his badly cut hand, and Tim vowed to stay put ...

... or at least he *would* have stayed put if the stuff she dipped his hand into was water ... as it turned out it was neat Dettol, and the liquid had an almost "magic sponge" effect on Tim, turning him from a recumbent and groggy lad into an upright and animated figure, cursing and swearing at the old biddy for all he was worth ...