Saturday dawns grey and dank, I grab some keys, my lid, a coat, and head out to the garage, I open the door and unlock the A65, connect the battery, and wheel it out into cool morning air. I open the fuel taps, just a short tickle on the carb plunger, before turning on the ignition switch and give the kicker a couple of jabs, and we have action. I leave the bike sitting at idle while I lock the garge down, and don my open face helmet and reindeer leather gloves, Saturday is looking good. Next it was off for fuel and air, that done I headed off through town to go and find Paul and his Spitfire, before we bothe headed out into the lanes on our way to the Four horseshoes and lunch. This was to be my first ride on my A65, as I bought it just before the winter set in, so it has been garage bound waiting its turn to be out on the road. And it was great, running well, sounding fantastic as we rode through the hedge lined lanes, all the time I had "Frankies Gun" playing in my head.. And so it went, until we got within shouting distance of the pub, that is when the missfire started, I was sooting up a plug on one side, strange when you thingk I only have one carb, but we limped to the pub on one cylinder, where I was able to borrow a plug spanner and clean the plug. But we did make the pub, and who should be sitting in the car park waiting for us, none other than the Kentish hillbilly Shaun with the purple plunger, his Hinkley trumpet. As you can see a few bikes turned up, not to shabby for a chilly February day, but it was dry and the sun did try but really has no warmth at this time of year. Soon it was time to hit the lanes again and head home, I made it nearly all the way before the same plug fouled up again, and I limped to my local bike shop for some new hotter plugs. It was great to finaly get out on the Bolt, even if I did have a couple of teething problems..