Just before my accident, I had met a great girl who was a student at Cambridge. With my newly found wheels, I used to ride like a lunatic up the motorway to see her after our final evening parade at the rehab center. I would take her out for dinner, sleep over, and then get up at 4:00 A.M. to race the two hours back down to Headley Court and morning parade. The staff had no idea. No one, they imagined, could be that stupid. It was often so cold in the middle of winter that I remember riding along, back brace on over my leathers, and one hand at a time resting on the engine to keep warm. Talk about reckless, bad driving. But it was great fun. The relationship petered out soon after, though--the Cambridge girl was way too clever for me. And I am not sure I was the most stable of boyfriends.