I wonder if I could become a bike detective... tracking down machines for customers that now wish they'd never treated them so harshly and belated realise that their 2 wheeled fling of 30 years ago was the most lasting and meaningful motoring relationship of their life.
Like York's answer to Phillip Marlowe I could spend my days wandering amid the low-life debris at the rough side of town, where old machines go to be stripped, to quarries where they are ill-treated and even to far-away cities, where strange speaking people take them to buy Guinness, Leeks or Haggis.
Or I could use the DVLA website
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