If I ever had a Rip Van Winkle like incident, and slumbered away quietly for months, and then effortlessly woke up, I could tell without looking at the calendar more or less whether I'd popped out of hibernation on a working day or a weekend. Could n't be easier. Simply have to wait for the low, throaty rumble of the Harley Davidson chugging through town and it's a giveaway that it's a Saturday or Sunday. Like today, I've seen three of these low slung carburettor heavy monsters cruising the streets...and yes it's a Sunday. Who needs calendars.