Oh Dear, the Motorbike Returns

The kid next door saw me. His little motorbike stopped.

It was running fine. Wonderfully fine. Noisily fine. All kinds of fine. He put it in the garage one afternoon, two days later he got it out and it wouldn’t run.

“Can you have another look at it, please?”

” ‘Course I can. Bring it over when you’ve got a spare minute.”

I’m going on the carburettor for this one. Probably got dirty fuel from that old can his dad uses and clogged a jet.

Looks like the boy’s apprenticeship isn’t over yet.


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