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Pembleton Jaunt


Albert Crackleport

It is 'I' Albert Crackleport. A blast from the past, a previous Pembletoneer, and a lucky old sod.

Lucky ? How come ?

Helping my good friend Koen through the UK vehicle registration process, so that he can suffer even more of the same 'tuther side of the channel in Belgium when he 'Imports' his Pembleton Super Sport has meant that he had to leave it at my gaff. Fitted with UK plates, tax and insured it would be criminal not to use it now wouldn't it? So, that is how come your Uncle Albert is once more 'Pembling on the Wild Side'. (For a couple of months anyway) L.B.P. had undergone a thorough nut tightening and tab washer squeezing and I could put it off no longer. Sooner or later I would have to invest in a gallon of fuel and hit the highway.

Here's what happened when we launched L.B.P. (Little Belgium Pem) onto the queens highway for the very first time....

Saturday 11th June seemed a good day to dip the toe in the water. (For no particular reason - just a good day.)

Two jolly good eggs would be accompaning L.B.P. on the maiden trip. None other than Wash, Wax 'n' Polish Master Basil. K. Splutterpipe and King of Patina Lea Thermallet.

9.00a.m. Shiny as a new sixpence No3 (Basil K.) and L.B.P. (getting shinier by the hour) release their vast horsepower and head for the first stop. A very very important take on human fuel, yes a big bacon 'n' tom sarnie and steaming mug of coffee from Otleys famous roadside eatery. Savoury Suprise ! Nosh provider for truckers, farmers and builders throughout Yorkshire. Owned by an Italian who appears to have learnt most of the local dialect........Whata fuc*a da fuc*ina wanta guys ? Is thata 2 two bloodya coffeez witha fuc*ina milka ?

Basil K. was worried, not because the tomato might squeeze out of his buttie and drip down his new jumper but because he felt that his Pem gearbox was poorly. The changing was gloopy and he had to stir and stir until he found a drive cog. Assuring him it was only a minor problem we enjoyed the grub, a chat with the fuc*in Italian and pushed on, heading for The Sun Inn at Fewston. Our rendezvue point with Lea.

The blast up to The Sun Inn from Otley is made for Pembletons....blind bends, fast yumps, and a long climb with hairpin....

No sign of Basil K. at the summit. It was only after pulling in at the car park did I learn what had happened.....the gearbox on No3 was blown. Basil sat demoralized in the cockpit, pulling the stick and forth like he was Steve Redgrave. Fear not, we have tools let's have a look. Oh, the joy on removing the bonnet, for before us lay the culprit. The gear lever was loose. Nifty work with a couple of spanners and it was smiles all around just as Lea pulled in.

Greetings and Pembleton inspections over we climbed into our respective machines and forged onwards. Destination Grassington. Thankfully not full of tourists (We're not tourists....we're driving in our own country....we belong here!.............add miserable to my C.V.)

Lea's Pem is equipped with all the survival gear you can imagine. Not only deck chairs but brewing facilities too. A vintage optimus stove was soon lit with meths and a kettle brought to the boil. "Ground coffee anyone".

Suitably refreshed and feeling up for a challenge we voted that the top of Park Rash should be journeys end....I'm always up for a thrash up 'The Rash' so not only a maiden voyage for L.B.P. but a drive on hollowed ground. Yes, you can sense the presence of those motorists past, times when men were men and 'wimin' did the washing....(and as they were told).....whoops….who said that…

Anyways, thrash we did, twice, just to be sure.

Our little party disbanded at the top, Lea heading for Masham and No3 and L.B.P. heading back towards Bolton Abbey via, Kilnsey, Thresfield, Burnstall.

L.B.P. survived her first trip. three cheers for the builder !

Hip Hip Hooray, Hip Hip Hooray, Hip Hip Hooray! (Accompanied by Land of Hope and Glory played on comb and paper)

Carry on Pembling - Albert Crackleport

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