The essence of life is movement, and as players within it we fluctuate between control and trusting to faith. For three long years I have existed in an advanced state of faith – poring over the motoring runes that are PH classifieds. This despite knowing that family comes first as surely as the ubiquitous Fiesta continues its reign as the pragmatic, austere incumbent with its readily available parts and urban anonymity. No doubt these are austere and serious times, and so she says we must save. And so dutifully, I save. So much, it seems, must be victim to this new economic black. What of my hard-won doctorate in Man-Maths, honed since 1988? As a stripling youth I toiled long hours in the arid, sun-bleached gardens of Bucks – sustained only by weak Kia-Ora – simply to attain two-stroke nirvana. That lithe and aromatic RD250LC spoke breathlessly of the frenetic movement of life, and she schooled me unflinchingly in the poetic fiscal imbalance of all things internal combustion. And so I was smitten, and for more than twenty years I carefully honed my knowledge of the maths knowable only by man, moving from 2 wheels to 4 as my means allowed. It is me, and my kind that have fuelled the engine of this once great economy with our unbending work ethic and thirst for credit. Are we now simply to be tossed aside, forgotten? I beg you return my faith in you and reinstate the imbalance we all understand, today.
Man-maths and motoring