So, first decent weekend weather in the UK this year for having a blast. I hope all you lot made the most of it! Me, I'm free of family and babies 'cos Amy's gone to see her family, Saturday is a fooking "piss down with rain frustration nightmare day" of looking out the window at wet, wet, wet. (Get drunk on a good bottle of wine instead and watch John Wayne war movies.)
But today was different, got up at six went to the window and keyed in BBC weather into the Google. Result! It's going to be good. Get leathers out, be rash...dump the winter gear, get out the summer gloves and the new visor I was saving for the first track day this year, today is going to be worth it.
By 7 I'm free of the London shit. Traffic lights, speed cameras, white van wankers. Hit Epping and the roads are clear, Motobox howling, (remind myself I must get ear plugs), early sun shining, getting familiar with the SD after months of riding it like a pussy round town over winter. I'm trying hard but the bike is telling me that it's been waiting for this for a long time and wants to stretch it's legs like some fooking crazy race horse but to be honest I'm rusty and the bike is better than me. Can't seem to gel with it - there's no Karma. Stop at Theydon Bois and sit in a layby listening to the tick, tick of cooling metal and admit that I'm a bit out of shape and need to take things slow while I get used to this bike's potential.
I had a plan for today. Essex B roads for a while - the ones I know from my old LC4 days, a bit bumpy but I know the bends and it'll be reassuring to get my flow back in familiar territory. I catch up an early bird, an R1. He's fairly motoring and I stick on his arse for a while, he's probably a local, he knows the score and I settle in behind him knowing that it'll piss him off, and he'll up his pace, but at the same time don't want to take him and then feel I have something to prove - I'm still too rusty. We're companions for 20 miles or so, I like his riding style, it's comfortable and I get that feeling he doesn't mind me being there after a while. Bloody fast on the straights, I have to really red line the SD to keep up, but I seem to have better drive out of the corners, it's still got early morning damp in patches and you have to be careful, my last years Racetecs are not the best in these conditions.
Get to Bishop Stortford and he peels off at a roundabout, the wrong way for me........I don't even get to stop at a junction and say hello, he's a faceless stranger but I've had a good time and hold him in good regard. Back on my own I head for Stevenage to see if I can find the Dainese store 'cos I want to try on a jacket to see what size I am so I can bid on Fleabay for a used one. Get lost and my phone keeps on telling me I'm there - I sit at the side of the road countless times looking at the screen, "you have arrived" it says and I look around at the industrial estate I'm circumventing and know I haven't. But I ring them and get there eventually and wander around for a while but really I just want to get back on the bike and hear that induction howl and get back into that place where I'm just part of the machine and feel like I belong.
Set off and, although I want to get out of town, realise that Stevenage is mainly deserted Sunday business parks layed out with a set of perfect roundabouts with interconnecting straights, and this time of day there's no traffic so, have a circuit of the place. Wheelie, second, third. Brake, second, tip it in. Lean, lean, lean, peel off, second, third, fourth. Brake, brake, brake, second, lean, lean, lean, peel off, wheelie, etc. It's my own private race track till I come round a corner and see the biggest police station I've ever seen and decide it's time to move on.
I asked there guys back at the Dainese store, "What's a good route to Duxford but using no major roads", and so I have this mental picture in my head of a load of directions that I need to follow. They've told me that this is a good route so I come off the A1 at Baldock and power up a turnoff that looks promising. There's a few cars about by now but the SD just fooking consumes them, picking them off on every straight, I can't help smiling at the shock some of them have as the I come past - it's the noise, not the riding.....I give them a wide berth but I guess it must be like being hit by a tsunami.
5 hours in and I've started to get gelled with my stead again, we feel like long lost friends reunited. I can't help feeling guilty for all the months this thing has been holed up under covers, or in the house. OK, I've been working on it but it's not the same as being ridden is it? The SD is powering along, has so much to give, I'm having to really work hard to cope with full throttle. The long winter months have blunted my ability. Sure thing. I'd forgotten how far the throttle went! This thing scares the shit out of me sometimes, I hit a bend....thinking about my countersteering.... you know, realising that I was in maybe not quite the right position on the road....whatever, then up ahead there's a long straight. It's the kind where you just know the tarmac is good, there's no junctions, no buildings, just hedge rows. Black tarmac, national speed limit signs. Pin the fooking throttle!! It's like Star track warp speed and you pass the point where you might change gear and, (have a quick peek), there's still 3,000 rpm to go so you nail it and hunch down, maybe just grip the bars a little tighter and Phwaaaaaaaaar. Limit is the road surface really, just gets to the point where stability is an issue, need a steering damper for sure.
But this bike has been built by people who know what they wanted to achieve and I sit in it, nailing mile after mile, endless torque, slick gearbox, sublime engine braking....feather the clutch, (feel the back wheel starting to hop), brakes that are only limited by my forearm to resist the negative G...that front tyre is so fooking good...I'm starting to trust it again 'cos I didn't when I first set out. There's more traffic now, and more bikes out too but they always seem to be going the other way. It's good to be nodding at bikes again on Sunday runs, they don't do it in London, of course, but everywhere else there's always time for a nod at approach speeds of maybe 200mph. You see the lights flash into vision, "what's that?', you ask in a nano second, The obligatory Gixxer or R1, flash of Kawa green, some old guy on a BM. Sometimes a whole bunch of them in a line. Nod, nod, nod. I'm on my own though. Lone shark.
I get to Duxford at last having taken a lead of wrong turns on purpose to make the ride longer. Did a detour to a place I used to live. A gatehouse to some country estate, place my oldest son was born. Trip down memory lane, did a quick park up to take a picture but didn't want to hang about because those two worlds didn't seem to connect today...this was a time for the SD and me so pressed the started button, panicked a load of locals out for a Sunday walk and split.
Had a two hour break walking round Duxford. Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Corsairs, Hellcats, Liberators, Wellingtons. Got lost in that world....those machines, those times. Made me think that it's not so different now in a way. We kit up, go out in the morning at dawn, sit in our machines and feel a bond with them because we have to trust them to get us home and hope that we are up to the job of piloting them to the standard they were built to.
Rode back home. A bit slower. I was knackered. The sun was going down, the day over. Stopped of at Epping bikers cafe meet point on the way back, 300 miles, two tanks of petrol, 1 Dainese vest, 4 coffee stops, one gold Spitfire badge, fooking great day.
Got home, had a bottle of wine which is why I'm now drunk writing this all this shit.
Where I used to live
A road warrior from another time
The Stealth Superduke meets it's match, (note orange and black theme)
The start of Germanic 'Egde" styling subsequently adopted by KTM
But today was different, got up at six went to the window and keyed in BBC weather into the Google. Result! It's going to be good. Get leathers out, be rash...dump the winter gear, get out the summer gloves and the new visor I was saving for the first track day this year, today is going to be worth it.
By 7 I'm free of the London shit. Traffic lights, speed cameras, white van wankers. Hit Epping and the roads are clear, Motobox howling, (remind myself I must get ear plugs), early sun shining, getting familiar with the SD after months of riding it like a pussy round town over winter. I'm trying hard but the bike is telling me that it's been waiting for this for a long time and wants to stretch it's legs like some fooking crazy race horse but to be honest I'm rusty and the bike is better than me. Can't seem to gel with it - there's no Karma. Stop at Theydon Bois and sit in a layby listening to the tick, tick of cooling metal and admit that I'm a bit out of shape and need to take things slow while I get used to this bike's potential.
I had a plan for today. Essex B roads for a while - the ones I know from my old LC4 days, a bit bumpy but I know the bends and it'll be reassuring to get my flow back in familiar territory. I catch up an early bird, an R1. He's fairly motoring and I stick on his arse for a while, he's probably a local, he knows the score and I settle in behind him knowing that it'll piss him off, and he'll up his pace, but at the same time don't want to take him and then feel I have something to prove - I'm still too rusty. We're companions for 20 miles or so, I like his riding style, it's comfortable and I get that feeling he doesn't mind me being there after a while. Bloody fast on the straights, I have to really red line the SD to keep up, but I seem to have better drive out of the corners, it's still got early morning damp in patches and you have to be careful, my last years Racetecs are not the best in these conditions.
Get to Bishop Stortford and he peels off at a roundabout, the wrong way for me........I don't even get to stop at a junction and say hello, he's a faceless stranger but I've had a good time and hold him in good regard. Back on my own I head for Stevenage to see if I can find the Dainese store 'cos I want to try on a jacket to see what size I am so I can bid on Fleabay for a used one. Get lost and my phone keeps on telling me I'm there - I sit at the side of the road countless times looking at the screen, "you have arrived" it says and I look around at the industrial estate I'm circumventing and know I haven't. But I ring them and get there eventually and wander around for a while but really I just want to get back on the bike and hear that induction howl and get back into that place where I'm just part of the machine and feel like I belong.
Set off and, although I want to get out of town, realise that Stevenage is mainly deserted Sunday business parks layed out with a set of perfect roundabouts with interconnecting straights, and this time of day there's no traffic so, have a circuit of the place. Wheelie, second, third. Brake, second, tip it in. Lean, lean, lean, peel off, second, third, fourth. Brake, brake, brake, second, lean, lean, lean, peel off, wheelie, etc. It's my own private race track till I come round a corner and see the biggest police station I've ever seen and decide it's time to move on.
I asked there guys back at the Dainese store, "What's a good route to Duxford but using no major roads", and so I have this mental picture in my head of a load of directions that I need to follow. They've told me that this is a good route so I come off the A1 at Baldock and power up a turnoff that looks promising. There's a few cars about by now but the SD just fooking consumes them, picking them off on every straight, I can't help smiling at the shock some of them have as the I come past - it's the noise, not the riding.....I give them a wide berth but I guess it must be like being hit by a tsunami.
5 hours in and I've started to get gelled with my stead again, we feel like long lost friends reunited. I can't help feeling guilty for all the months this thing has been holed up under covers, or in the house. OK, I've been working on it but it's not the same as being ridden is it? The SD is powering along, has so much to give, I'm having to really work hard to cope with full throttle. The long winter months have blunted my ability. Sure thing. I'd forgotten how far the throttle went! This thing scares the shit out of me sometimes, I hit a bend....thinking about my countersteering.... you know, realising that I was in maybe not quite the right position on the road....whatever, then up ahead there's a long straight. It's the kind where you just know the tarmac is good, there's no junctions, no buildings, just hedge rows. Black tarmac, national speed limit signs. Pin the fooking throttle!! It's like Star track warp speed and you pass the point where you might change gear and, (have a quick peek), there's still 3,000 rpm to go so you nail it and hunch down, maybe just grip the bars a little tighter and Phwaaaaaaaaar. Limit is the road surface really, just gets to the point where stability is an issue, need a steering damper for sure.
But this bike has been built by people who know what they wanted to achieve and I sit in it, nailing mile after mile, endless torque, slick gearbox, sublime engine braking....feather the clutch, (feel the back wheel starting to hop), brakes that are only limited by my forearm to resist the negative G...that front tyre is so fooking good...I'm starting to trust it again 'cos I didn't when I first set out. There's more traffic now, and more bikes out too but they always seem to be going the other way. It's good to be nodding at bikes again on Sunday runs, they don't do it in London, of course, but everywhere else there's always time for a nod at approach speeds of maybe 200mph. You see the lights flash into vision, "what's that?', you ask in a nano second, The obligatory Gixxer or R1, flash of Kawa green, some old guy on a BM. Sometimes a whole bunch of them in a line. Nod, nod, nod. I'm on my own though. Lone shark.
I get to Duxford at last having taken a lead of wrong turns on purpose to make the ride longer. Did a detour to a place I used to live. A gatehouse to some country estate, place my oldest son was born. Trip down memory lane, did a quick park up to take a picture but didn't want to hang about because those two worlds didn't seem to connect today...this was a time for the SD and me so pressed the started button, panicked a load of locals out for a Sunday walk and split.
Had a two hour break walking round Duxford. Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Corsairs, Hellcats, Liberators, Wellingtons. Got lost in that world....those machines, those times. Made me think that it's not so different now in a way. We kit up, go out in the morning at dawn, sit in our machines and feel a bond with them because we have to trust them to get us home and hope that we are up to the job of piloting them to the standard they were built to.
Rode back home. A bit slower. I was knackered. The sun was going down, the day over. Stopped of at Epping bikers cafe meet point on the way back, 300 miles, two tanks of petrol, 1 Dainese vest, 4 coffee stops, one gold Spitfire badge, fooking great day.
Got home, had a bottle of wine which is why I'm now drunk writing this all this shit.
Where I used to live
A road warrior from another time
The Stealth Superduke meets it's match, (note orange and black theme)
The start of Germanic 'Egde" styling subsequently adopted by KTM