Tongas, good gloves, and learning the hard way

Back in the day when I could still see my boots whilst standing up I used to love picking up an old beater to putter around on. When working in the North West Frontier Province I bought an old 985cc 1942 BSA G14 for a song. But, like all young men, I have a habit of learning hard lessons the difficult way.

One day I was speeding around a corner somewhere in the Malakand Division and nearly hit a tonga carrying a load of bricks. Swerving into some sand, I came off the bike at a hell of a rate.  I hit the road with a hell of a bang and shredded my bare hand as if I had put it in a meat grinder. Lost the end of my little finger. It was a real bleeder. It took some weeks and a few whiskies (held in my right hand) to heal up. I cannot help but think these Elk Skins gloves would have saved me a lot of trouble. Not only would they have made me look better as I cartwheeled off the bike, they would have helped me avoid a nasty injury – for which I still bear the scars.

I was wearing a pair a few weeks back while I chopping firewood in Eight Chain Bay. Made me think of the days when I was young and foolish. Now I am just foolish, but at least I finally have some damn fine gloves.