Gilera

Question scooter, faut faire gaffe quand même, c'est pas bien fin comme

engin !

Mon pote Denis, qui habite dans la même rue que moi, s'en est acheté un de

scooter, il y a quelques mois, un Gilera. Pendant les vacances de Noël, il

s'est offert un pot d'échappement "racing" qui brille sur le côté et il a

changé son phare avant et une peu de carrosserie qui était rayée. L'autre

soir, il m'invite à enfumer son appart et me fait un rapport détaillé sur

les transformations aérodynamiques de son deux-roues rital. Puis, l'incendie

éteint et l'esprit allumé, il me propose de redescendre dans la rue pour me

faire apprécier la douce pétarade de son pot neuf, une offre, on l'admettra,

qu'il est difficile de décliner.

Nous allons au parking deux-roues où il démarre son fauve sombre et

méditerranéen. Nous nous tenons côte à côte devant la chose en marche, mais

comme ma propre Virago 400 trafiquée évoque davantage le son d'une Harley modèle Davidson,

je trouvais naturellement ce petit prout italien bien fadasse sinon inodore.

J'avance donc la main droite vers la poignée d'accélération pour donner une

petit coup de collier histoire de voir un peu s'il n'y avait vraiment que

des spaghettis dans le ventre ce scooter quasi aphone-là.

Misère ! Qu'avais-je fait ! Denis l'avait garé sur la béquille latérale et

un scooter n'a pas de point mort ! Il démarre tout de suite, pas besoin

d'enclencher la première, c'est un engin automatique ! Donc, bête !

Zioup, il a fait le scooter, comme une savonnette, en passant entre nous

deux. C'est que Denis n'est pas chiche en polish ! Ça glisse bien, mieux, ça

jaillit gaillardement ! Heureusement, aucune voiture ne passait à ce

moment-là. Libre et inconscient, pris d'une petite roulotte, l'étalon en

plastique traversait seul la rue, nous plantant là.

En face du parking, il y a un petit restaurant vietnamien, style buvette

avec quelques tables, ouvert sur la rue et fréquenté principalement par les

chauffeurs de taxi qui viennent soulager leur vessie dans les pissotoires

publiques situées non loin, juste à côté du local de récupération d'ordures

(j'habite un joli quartier).

Attaqué de front par l'italienne en goguette, le type, derrière l'étalage en

verre de son troquet, ouvrait de grands yeux bridés emplis de panique

quoiqu'éblouis par les phares du bolide méridional qui, prestement, filait

droit sur lui. Lancé par sa passion pour la vitesse, l'engin romain,

toujours dressé sur ses pizz... euh roues, grimpa sur le trottoir en se

cabrant et vint s'affaler à dix centimètres des pieds du restaurateur de

taxis essorés. Il eut tout de même la brillante idée de tomber du côté

opposé au pot d'échappement neuf et de s'en sortir sans grandes égratignures

laides et déchirantes. Ave César, moto guzzi te salutant !

Denis s'est précipité pour ramasser son bambino chû tandis que je suffoquais

entre l'envie d'éclater de rire vu le comique de la scène, celle de rougir

de honte et d'embarras vu la stupidité de mon poignet frivole (non, pas

celui-là, l'autre !) et celle, à laquelle je me suis plié, de m'excuser bien

platement auprès d'un Denis relativement calme et serein vu ces

circonstances indignes et scandaleuses.

Maintenant, je ne m'approche plus de cette sale bête sauvage et mal dressée,

j'ai subitement développé une intense allergie aux Gilera. D'ailleurs Denis,

il ne m'laisserait pas... Nish

My first day at the WTO was extremely short...

I was due to begin as a language helper at 1600hrs so I walked from my home in Tin Hau to the HKCEC to get a feel of it all. Causeway Bay's streets were blocked and almost empty which felt really unusual, groups of cops every twenty meters were on the watch along Victoria Park and there were diverse uniforms basically at every corners. The streets seemed to belong to cops on bikes as every other vehicles were having a blue flashlight. The motorcycle carparks were closed and the flyovers were also full of police. I finally reached the HKCEC via the flyovers and I soon stood in front of a counter where a guard asked me for my badge. I gave him my convocation letter instead but he said that wasn't good enough and, for security reasons, I needed to get a badge. I asked where I could get it and he gave me a phone number to call. I dialed and ended up on a french language helper... :)

I explained who I was and what I needed and she told me to get to Harcour House's 4th floor to get it. She gave me the address and it wasn't far so I told her I was going to get my badge but I would probably be late a bit then. She told me not to worry as she would get in touch with the NGO center to tell them I was on my way. Nice lady.

 

I rushed to the Harcour House with Yumi on the phone explaining me how to get there as she was facing her computer in City U with a on her screen and I arrived there within five minutes. I could have made it faster but a guard absolutely wanted to see my ID at the entrance of the building. I reached the 4th floor and entered a weird, large, administrative smelling place through the narrow door of a metalic curtain that had been pulled down. Perhaps one of those secret extra meeting rooms I had heard about. ;)

There I adressed a man behind a desk while some ladies were watching, live on TV, the protest that was going on outside. The man told me to wait so I had the time to watch, on the TV, some demonstrators jumping into the sea with flags for only protection. I was impressed, the water must have been so cold and smelly ! Or perhaps they thought it was mud and wanted to plant their flags in it ? Anyway, the guy returned and told me that the person in charge was busy in a meeting and could I come back tomorrow ?

Er... I'm supposed to start my job now...

He checks my convocation again.

Oh yes ! You're right ! Please wait.

He returns a few minutes later with a telephone number for me to call a certain Miss Leung. I dial.

Hello... You're Mister Pascal ?

That's right !

I'm sorry we didn't get to inform you by mail or call you before. We actually don't need your assistance anymore.

Oh, just like that ? And what about Saturday ? You don't need me on Saturday either ?

No, sorry.

And you tell me that now ?

Er... yes, sorry.

Ah, ok then, I guess I'll just go and join the demonstrators then... bye !

 

This was my memorable participation at HK's WTO. I'm proud ! :))

 

I then joined the demonstration where I could admire the formidable attire of the grand HK riot police. I couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be more policemen than demonstrators who, however, seemed dramatically less equiped for combat situations with only old straw hats and purple plastic whistles, even the journalists were more equiped with protection helmets, googles and masks ! Hong Kong, once again, enjoys panicking for not much it seems... I was tempted to set my own motorcycle on fire just to give the cops a reason to exist ! :))

In the end, Yumi joined me and the protestors began marching peacefully towards Causeway Bay, so we just went along with them, well, at least up to Outback Steak House were we had dinner.

Later on, as we walked back home, I noticed a very large sign in Victoria Park that said: PEOPLE BEFORE PROFIT. Hong Kong authorities should definitely consider leaving it there for ever...

 

Nish