Your erstwhile Scribe has spent the weekend esconced in his garage, away from the prying eyes of the natives, attempting to cure the Tiger's nocturnal myopia. Despite a head full of snot and constant sneezing, covering everything in goo, I emerged victorious. The Tiger can see!
The best bit?
Riding to work down the M6 and M57, lane three cleared like I was on blue lights and klaxons. Everyone must have been looking in the mirrors and thinking 'What the hell is THAT?'