Helpful Harley

1 11 2009

There is only one thing better than being driven around in a Porsche. It’s being driven in a Porsche in convoy with a real live, hard-core, leather-skinned, leather-clad “dude” on a Harley. I guess driving a fast car means you like to live on the edge. Like choosing to ignore the state of the art sat nav that comes as standard, and rather choosing to ask directions from a helpful fellow driver… so who pulled up next to us? Mr Harley Davidson himself. I was expecting him to tell us exactly where to go (if you know what I mean) but instead he slowly pulled up his visor (just like in the movies), revved the engine, and said in a voice tainted by years of inhaling exhaust fumes…”Follow me”. So what did we do? We followed him. We could have ended up in a big old car park in a secluded area of London, a gang of retired Hells’ Angels on loud shiny bikes revving their engines and circling the car like vultures. I had visions of my date offering me up as some sort of sacrifice to salvage his new car, should things get really bad. Luckily for me it turned out we were not being taken for a ride – and he delivered us, as promised to our destination – and then with a rev of his engine he zoomed off into the sunset. Like the lone ranger – off to do another good deed on the busy streets of London.


Thanks Harley you have restored my faith in helpful strangers.





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