- Jan 31, 2011
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My dad rang me today, harry, he said, why can't you just be a bit normal! Why is it that when I see the words 'a dogs view of sikhism, or a clowns view of sikhism' I know that it can only be my son playing the clown again. Why don't you restrict your funny stories and titles to your own page, before everyone think of you as some sort of joker (too late dad), oh well, ok, dad wins!
So my first funny story takes me back to age 26, I was then, a fully keshdhari sardar, and a keen biker. I loved the freedom of not needing a crash helmet, although I got used to fellow bikers shaking their heads at the lack of protection a Pugh was going to offer.
A few days earlier, on one of the main roads into where I lived at the time, police had removed a rope strung across the road designed to catch an unwary biker, and it had been widely reported in the local press. Riding home that afternoon, the sunny day was suddenly replaced by very hard very fast rain. I hated rain, like my father, I starched my turban, but the trouble was, in the water, it had a tendency to turn into a soggy floury mess.
The rain was getting harder, so I accelerated past a slow moving car in an effort to get home, when suddenly, as I got back into lane, my cherry red turban parted company with my head, and smashed into the windscreen of the car behind. Of course the dye ran, and stopping and walking towards the car, I noticed the windscreen was covered with red dye, with a red floury soggy mess in the middle,. The elderly occupants, on seeing a pair of legs walking towards them through the haze of cherry red dye, locked the doors and started making the sign of the cross. I could not do much else other than scrape what was left of the turban off the screen, place it on my head, (to be legal), and drive off. I would like to have seen the police report on that one....
So my first funny story takes me back to age 26, I was then, a fully keshdhari sardar, and a keen biker. I loved the freedom of not needing a crash helmet, although I got used to fellow bikers shaking their heads at the lack of protection a Pugh was going to offer.
A few days earlier, on one of the main roads into where I lived at the time, police had removed a rope strung across the road designed to catch an unwary biker, and it had been widely reported in the local press. Riding home that afternoon, the sunny day was suddenly replaced by very hard very fast rain. I hated rain, like my father, I starched my turban, but the trouble was, in the water, it had a tendency to turn into a soggy floury mess.
The rain was getting harder, so I accelerated past a slow moving car in an effort to get home, when suddenly, as I got back into lane, my cherry red turban parted company with my head, and smashed into the windscreen of the car behind. Of course the dye ran, and stopping and walking towards the car, I noticed the windscreen was covered with red dye, with a red floury soggy mess in the middle,. The elderly occupants, on seeing a pair of legs walking towards them through the haze of cherry red dye, locked the doors and started making the sign of the cross. I could not do much else other than scrape what was left of the turban off the screen, place it on my head, (to be legal), and drive off. I would like to have seen the police report on that one....
