Angels

Thank-you my angel

My angel rides a Triumph.

I didn't take a photograph so I'll have to use words instead.

My angel turned off the dual-carriageway behind me. He followed me over the roundabout at the end of the runway, past the airport buildings and through the traffic lights at the ring-road. He seemed content to sit behind me, no rush to overtake.

The two lanes became one and the BMW alongside me got aggressive. With fierce gestures and belligerent driving he tried to claim the road for himself. About to yield I glanced once more to my side and saw the car had been replaced my a motorbike. My angel had intervened.

Job done, my angel overtook me. I waved as he passed. He lifted his visor and winked.

My angel rides a Triumph. His number-plate ended "PAB".