“BRUCE WAS THE BACKBONE OF ALL THE GOOD TIMES”
AS THE ROLLER door came down, a big black crow turned a yellow eye our way before flapping over the roof. I thumbed the GS into life with trepidation, 55 years of motorcycling makes a bloke superstitious.
Maybe we’re too late? Maybe it’s Bruce? There’s nothing lower on the emotional rollercoaster than a visit to say goodbye to a mate. My head’s screaming. It’s
