End of the road

Head was a bit stuffy today and I needed to get out of the house despite trying-to-rain, so went for a little ride down to Leith, to maybe buy a new waterproof cap.  The one I have is very worse for wear: it didn't help when it blew off my head and got run over.  When I reached Princes Street I decided not to bother, thinking I'd be better spending money on better earplugs or replacement ABS sensors, so rode east and out of town to Fisherrow harbour.  I wandered very slowly, feeling quite out of sorts.

I chatted with a fisherman who was washing lobster pots.  He said the lobsters hadn't bred much because of the colder sea temperature, and that he mainly trawls for cod and haddock up north.  I ran out of sympathy when he said he catches 30 tonnes of fish a day, and I carried on walking along the breakwater, and sat for a while, ruminating on why Fidra's ABS warning light had come on.

I then rode through Prestonpans to Cockenzie, turned south for Tranent and Ormiston, and returned down the A68 with a faint but pungent smell, like fresh tarmac, hanging around my nose.  Back through Lasswade and to the petrol station to fill up, but that rotten eggs smell was still hanging around.  I rode the short way home and the bike was hissing.  It's never done that before.  I thought the rear shock absorber was leaking gas but after I took the seat off I discovered a very angry, extremely hot, bulging, fizzing battery, and hastily disconnected it.  Yikes!

So Fidra is yet again in the doghouse until I can buy a new battery and work out what's caused the old one to spontaneously combust.  I do love the challenge of fixing stuff but more and more often these days I really just don't have the energy.