Well, *I* do. The K stripped its gearbox input shaft splines last night; To add insult to injury, that was on the way to my tame BMW mechanic to get it serviced and, strangely enough, have the gearbox looked at. Arse. OTOH, top marks to the four bikers who stopped to check that I was OK while I was admiring the sights on the A2 just past the Dome (none found) during the wait for Auntie Carole to send around the breakdown lorry. And top marks to Brian for being completely unfazed by me turning up in the middle of the night instead of the early evening as originally agreed. Unfortunately I've already got a lower bound on the cost for the repair so you can probably guess that I'm a very happy bunny this morning. Not. I can already hear Lozzo's pen scratching on the pages of his Black Book of BMW.