The Red Hunter

The next the single had begun popping and slowing momentarily, then picking up for a short distance before misfiring again.

With only a couple of kilometres to go before I got back to the dealership from which I’d borrowed the bike, I opted to try and keep going – but the elderly Ariel had other ideas. Suddenly the Red Hunter, which had been running so sweetly all afternoon, died completely and ground to a halt. Without either tools or, frankly, much desire to use them, I faced the prospect of either a long push back or an embarrassed phone call for assistance.