UFO, my Story.

True story: My UFO sighting near Manchester Airport. It was around 2005 and I was driving from Halifax to Airdrie (Near Glasgow) and back.

I was a class 1 HGV driver, and since it was a very long drive and could over run my driving hours it was double manned, so there were 2 drivers taking turns. On the way back we’d come down the M6 – M61 – M60 – M62, and this one morning we were stuck in early morning rush hour traffic trying to get on the M60 just south of Bolton and I was driving, the other guy, (Shane) was fast asleep.

Then I noticed a small but very bright light to the south, around Manchester airport area, and for a while I just watched it dart around, sometimes smoothly moving around, sometimes darting, almost like it disappeared and reappeared instantaneously some miles away. After around 10 minutes (we really were stuck in traffic) I noticed what looked like a fighter jet trying to chase it. The jet had no chance, it just couldn’t keep up, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks, so I woke Shane up (he wasn’t happy about it) and told him to look, and he saw it too. This went on for around 30 minutes before the light vanished once and for all, but the jet kept circling for a while before it too disappeared (problably landed).

About The Bionic Cyclist

I am a keen technophile and have been since I was a kid. I was amazed when one of my friends invented the wheel, and I've been nuts about technology ever since.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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