How the silly old coot failed his license

Old man on Harley Davidson

I couldn’t believe that my Dad failed his motorbike license.  He had been riding motorcycles for as long as I could remember.  When he was in his 60’s he bought himself his dream bike – a Harley Davidson! – and as his license had expired, he needed to renew it. This is what the silly old goat did …

To get his motorbike license he had to ride around the streets (on an agreed route) with a motorbike license “tester” following him (on another motorbike) and grading him on how he handled the bike and whether he obeyed the road rules.

The scene was set for his perfect day … the sun was shining, the birds were tweeting, and the beautiful roar of the motor bike was bliss in the old man’s ears.  Oh, his dream was about to come true.  Not long now till he could mount his own Harley and feel the power between his thighs on his first long ride to Glasshouse Mountains!

Everything was going extremely well … until he saw the “tester” quickly overtake him at high speed.  Dad didn’t want to lose him, so he swerved into the next lane, throttled the bike, and followed him, making sure he “stayed on his tail”!

He couldn’t believe the speed and remarkable swerving skills the tester displayed.  He presumed it was part of his motorbike road test.  Maybe he needed to do exactly as the tester did to pass and get his license.  So he increased his speed to match that of the tester, weaved in and out of the traffic (ensuring he used his indicators of course) knowing he would be impressing the tester with his previous years of experience at handling motorcycles.  Nothing was too hard for this old bikie, he could keep up with these young bucks!  He would not be outwitted or outridden!

Dad wondered why they seemed to be taking a different route to that agreed to, but he didn’t care.  As long as he got his license so he could ride his dream bike, that’s all that mattered.  The tester slowed down and turned into the long road leading into a cemetery.

The tester finally stopped his bike.  Dad stopped behind him.  The tester dismounted and started to remove his helmet.  Dad got off his bike, undid his helmet, all the while wondering why the tester made him ride into the cemetery, a funeral obviously happening not too far from where they were parked.

Dad walked up to the tester – and looked into the face of a complete stranger who said  “Are you running late for the funeral too mate?”  Oh crap.  He had no idea who this bloke was, but it certainly was NOT the tester from the licensing authority.  What had he done?  Who the hell had he been following?  He looked around perplexed.  What the???  Where was the motorcycle license tester?

He quickly donned his helmet, hoofed his leg over the bike, revved it and rode back to the testing office.  He found his particular tester and asked “Well mate, did I get my license?”   He replied “No!  I don’t know what happened, but one minute I was behind you, then you took off like a speed demon and I bloody well couldn’t keep up with you! So no … you didn’t get your license!”

 FAIL

PS:  He eventually got it!

© 2015 CEW

 

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