Nay, lads.
THIS is a story.
T'would be Christmas Eve 1987.
I was heading from London, North on the M11, with my girlfriend on my K100RS in the dark, tanking along in the outside lane, all three of which were solid but moving at a fair rate.
Suddenly roused out of the soporific dweam that night time motorway work lulls you into.
Ahead the sea of red tail lights all came on bright, like.
Took me a split second to realize what was happening before I took advantage of the hefty grip only a set of Brembo's could at that time provide.
Though everyone was braking hard I was managing to keep the car in front a healthy distance ahead, when the rear of that car lifted in a surreal manner as it plowed into the one in front of it.
Of course, at the speed we'd been doing, inertia is a cruel God. The scene ahead was a fairy light nightmare, still moving.
The car in front of me touched down and incredibly the hatchback flew open and launched a frozen turkey went straight over my head! HONESTLY.
As we were rapidly slowing I thought my headlight was reflecting off water, but no, it was glass and I realized both my wheels were locked.
With no friction of any kind I instinctively flicked the bike to the right and came to rest between that car and the central reservation.
As it turned out that was just in the nick of time, as the car following me crunched into the back of my friend ahead. It's weird, not like in the movies. In reality the impact sounded like a carton of eggs hitting the floor.
As I put the bike on its stand, the guy I'd been following rolled out onto the road gripping his jewels as the impact had forced him into his steering wheel.
I thought he was having a heart attack until he groaned and told me of his plight.
I'd had the presence of mind to stand my girlfriend between the central reservation Armco. Bless, I truly loved her!
So, the two inside lanes scarpered off and the BOYZ IN BLOO soon arrived, blahnablah in a shower of blue lights.
Three cars which had been ahead of me looked the worse for wear, and amazingly two from behind had joined the scrum and by some miracle my girlfriend, me and the bike had narrowly avoided becoming part of the sandwich.
After dutifully given a statement to a sergeant, he told me if we were indeed ok, to keep calm and carry on.
Still incredulous as to what just happened, we set off again along the M11, onto the A1 and got home in Yorkshire for midnight. Cup of broth and off to bed for a hug.
Next day, Christmas day, I went out to bring the packed panniers in.
To my horror both tyres were flat! Yet we'd come about 100 miles with them full of glass!
Such are the wonders of tubeless tyres!
So yes, check your tyres before setting off.
You can't be too careful.
