Motor's Trying to Gobble my Money!

 

I’ve been talking to those nice Vietnamese fellaesses at the embassy on the phone today. They explained to me that the reason that I haven’t got my passport and Visa decision back is simply because it is Chinese New Year (and one must assume Vietnam New year) and they have been too busy wine-ing, dining and making merriment to process it. I certainly can’t argue with the logic of that. So when I get to Wellington on Wednesday I will just drop in to see how they’re going and to reassure them that I am of fine character and will be of great amusement to their citizens when I finally turn up in August.

The Chinese Embassy should be open for business by then too I hope. Talking of going to Wellington, Adi told me off for suggesting that I would go on the Vespa. She said she was very disappointed in my attitude and that if I didn’t watch it I could morph into one of those lazy good for nothing motorists that I hate so much. It just goes to show you how an addiction like that can slowly creep up on you. I simply used the Vespa for a couple of jobs last week when my Mercian was out of action and already I was planning to take it on an extended trip! She had every right to be disappointed in me. In addition to the lazy arse attitude, taking a Vespa on the ferry is considerably more expensive than a bicycle. Not to mention petrol. I bet you’ll be knocked over backwards when I tell you that it costs $14 NZ to fill up that hungry little fella! If that wasn’t enough to make you see red the fact that $7 of that is tax would surely send you over the edge.

So I’ve cancelled my big ride to Golden Bay and on Wednesday I’ll cycle to the ferry and catch the evening sailing to the big smoke. And in doing so I’ll leave the motorists to pay all that tax to the Government. Thank you Adi for showing me the error of my ways.  The two low rider bags on the front and a big saddlebag at the back should be enough for that trip. I won’t need to camp on this trip and I don’t need to dress up to visit my mother in hospital because she has dementia and ten minutes after I’m gone she has forgotten she has seen me. In fact while I’m there she won’t recognise me as her son. She’ll just think I’m a strangely dressed orderly or come in to fluff the pillows.