The job went well apart from the usual 'What the bloody hell did rhey put this bolt in with?' scenario a couple of times.
Old seals and spring removed, piston and bore cleaned properly, new seal and spring inserted, new seals on the banjo bolt, new fluid, bled properly, tested in situ, All OK. Test rode it a few miles and no leak. Brilliant. Set for Saturday to do the trade. Excitement level goes up a notch.
Saturday morning comes and at 0930 I'm on the road. The weather's cold but sunny and I've got my winter gear on so all is fine wiith the world. 83 SatNav miles to go (though I actually did 91.6 and the B12's speedo doesn't underread by that much) and I'm enjoying the ride. Until Saddleworth when the heacens opened and suddenly I'm very wet, the wind has picked up, and visibility is down to 10's of yards. Not nice. But it cleared up soon after anf I plled into the services for a quick smoke and to give the bike the once over for good measure. Still everything's good so off I set once more.
Get to the services we've agreed to meet at and he's already there on his Black Beauty. I look over his while he looks over mine and, over a warming brew, the deal is done. So paperwork is completed and exchanged and off we do to ride our new bikes home.
I sit astride the Falco and thumb the starter and grin like a lunatic as all of the old memories come flooding back. Knock her into gear and get ready to go as I notice my old bike (which is less then arms length away) getting quite badly stalled. So I decide to wait to see if he manges to set off on his second attempt only for it to happen again. It's then that I look down. Don't ask me why but I do. And there is a flood of clutch fluid pumping out every time the lever is depressed.
So he rides home on his Falco. And I have to wait 3 hours to get recovered with a dead Bandit.
I think I'll call her Christine.
