Bikes, Babes, Booze, Bands, Beer-Bellies, Bald, Bearded, Bad its the Bulldog Bash.

I have never seen so many bald, bearded men outside of a monastery. So many looked like bulldogs I figured that's how the gathering got its name! I'll back up a bit. Friday 12th August saw me riding my absolutely-opposite-to-Harley BMW F800GS along the rather tedious A3/M25/M40 to get to the gorgeous countryside around Stratford-on-Avon. I am not a Harley guy, but for MotoZania.com I was pleased to attend the Bulldog Bash at the Shakespeare County Raceway up in Warwickshire. I chose Friday because that was the night that Status Quo were playing. I pretty much knew what I'd see. Lots of Hells Angels and other biker gangs/groups/clubs. What surprised me was the friendliness, politeness and helpfulness of everyone. In spite of the place looking like a reunion party of axe murderers all these tough-looking guys were really most pleasant even when hammered on beer and dancing like madmen to Bad Manners. If they bumped you whilst staggering past they apologised like gentlemen. Most amusing. There was no shortage of 'hard cases' though so I went my meek and mild way to the various attractions.I arrived with just enough daylight to get some snaps of bikes and babes, enjoy an expensive beer and try some of the hog roast. I think I got the roasted air filter in my bun. I wandered about a bit then heard an almighty roar that made me leg it to the drag strip. I've never been to a drag race. The jet-powered car was unbelievable and ripped down the track in 6 odd seconds. trying to snap a photo from the stands was... ahhhh... challenging. One has to be rather quick.
I made sure to get as close as possible to the enormous concert stage. I felt a tad out of place with my neat new textile suit, off-road helmet and an American Axion backpack that the Brits reckon looks like a Hoover (read vacuum cleaner) on my back. Everyone else was in sleeveless vests of denim or leather covered by a million badges from events all over the world. I heard French and German spoken too so the get together is obviously well known in Europe.
In spite of looking like a goldfish at a vulture's feast everyone smiled and nodded and just got into the atmosphere of bikes, booze and bands. Needless to say, once the horns got blaring from Bad Manners and the ska guitars got chinking away the whole crowd was jumping. I reckon 10,000 on Friday night but it could have been more. There was an erie silence as everyone shuffled tighter and forward for Status Quo. Quo are an English rock legend that capitalised on the simple 3 chord, hammer-on 12 bar blues/rock pattern that has had people (like my parents in war-torn London) dancing from Glen Millar's 'In The Mood' big-band boogy style through 'Blue Suede Shoes' to Clapton and beyond. NO ONE CAN STAND STILL. As soon as Quo broke into Rockin All Over The World it was dance mayhem. The bass drum made my Hoover backpack jump and the crowd LOVED them. Simple but effective. They finished at 11pm. I wandered back to my BMW still dancing and singing in my helmet. A friendly couple on a Suzuki 600 Bandit that looked as out-of-place as me chatted to me about the BMW as I clobbered up for the long ride home. He was bored with a Jap 4 and wanted a twin again. It was quite chilly as I rode home so I stopped at a beautiful pub on the outskirts of Banbury and fitted the inner lining to my jacket. I even used the heated grips! Home at 2am. 66mpg average. 80-90mph most of the way. I just liked the twisty A286 from Milford to Haslemere. Bulldog Bash will be a must again next year. LOADS of bands. And rather friendly monks too.

Warm Welcome at the gate

Good light show too

Even the trucks have to scare you

Camped up right outside

Rick Parfitt Status Quo

The other Rossi

What IS this?

The THING close up

Triumph of colour and chrome

Forks and more forks

Brotherhood of Street Racers

What a way to go!

Hells Angel from Ireland

Rocket dragster blows past

That was fast

Happy Bunny

Ford Fairlane custom car

Bulldog Bash images

Dragster takes off

Start them young

More protesting keeps me busy.

OK so I disappeared for several months. I've been busy. Sing along...'We're busy doing nothing, working the whole day through, trying to find lots of things not to do'. Yup, I'm a Brit builder. Dodgy as a Wall Street banker with White House connections. Actually, I've just not been in the mood to write at all. Too busy building an art studio so that I can get back to oil painting. It's been YEARS since I painted. I bought a load of scaffolding planks really cheap and built a studio. Woodburning stove and antique style sink to clean out the brushes. It all takes time.

On the biking front I have never stopped! Man oh man but I have clocked up some miles on the Aprilia RSV. I still love it.

After my brief protest ride with Bike magazine I learned of another ride to protest against Westminster Council charging bikes to park in London. Greedy, money-grabbing and arrogant often seems to describe the local councils of England. We all hate them with a vengeance. So when I heard that loads of bikers were meeting at the Ace Cafe on the North Circular to ride around the whole of the M25 I just had to see it. Saturday 19th of June 2010. Of course the campaign to stop the charges were doomed never to succeed but being surrounded by almost 2,000 bikes all thundering along all 3-4 lanes of the M25 was great! The Police seemed to love it and were helpful and friendly. A very petite young lady dropped her Kawasaki just as we were queueing to leave and oil was dripping from a damaged crankcase. I follwed her in case she broke down but she managed as far as South Mimms (that silly name again) where a rescue truck took her and her bike home. Everyone was enjoying the ride and one girl said it was her first ever protest ride. We laughed about finding any excuse to protest something just to ride with thousands of bikes. I did 2/3s of the M25 and then peeled off at junction 10 for the A3 home. It took the whole day but the sheer spectacle of being in the midst of all those bikes was fabulous.

Whatever next?

A ride through France anyone?

Lethaly slow...

Sunday June 6th 2010. 4:30am. I wake up. As in 'BOING' eyes like golf balls in egg cups. I was heading off at about 7am to join the Bike Magazine Save Our 60s protest ride. Well, protest may be a tad strong for our 'revolution' ride. It seemed more like we were saying "Excuse me Sir Mr. Politician but would you mind awfully if we trundled about a bit and begged you to keep the 60mph speed limit? At least in one or two places? Pretty, pretty please?"

I left too early and killed too much time over a CostaLotta coffee at South Mimms motorway stop (who ever came up with that name?) I therefore arrived just in time at the Bike offices car park to see a fair few bikers and Simon Hargreaves of Bike magazine on the roof of some portacabin attempting to explain things. We were all so well behaved one could hardly describe it as a protest. Just in front of my pigface RSV was a beautiful 04 Aprilia RSV. Very sexy and modern. What a difference a year makes... The point of the ride from Bike magazine's perspective was probably more about gauging readership and their loyalty/support. The scenery as we rode out from Peterborough was astounding. I had no idea that there were such biscuit-tin beautiful villages. I love the old stone bridges. So quaint they are corny. Love it.

We were headed to Melton Mowbray (of pork pie fame folks) and we all knew to ride staggered and no overtaking. No speeding, no wheelies and drive-by shooting of Rover drivers was mildly discouraged too. Pity.The ride was uneventful until we nearly lost the leaders of this tortuously twisting B-road blockade due to some little fart on a Harley. He was supposed to be protesting that 60mph was a sane speed yet he never went over 29mph!!! Lethaly slow. Finally, the exasperated 04 Aprilia rider blasted past him as the pack disappeared into some tiny country road. We all overtook the little nerd who I noted was the same size in all directions. Naturally. 

In Melton Mowbray I topped up my disappearing clutch fluid (I've since learned it's just the O ring and it will be done at the next service) and queued for ages as hundreds of bikers waited for one little old lady to make one styrofoam cup of tea at a time and take the cash. Short notice of our arrival she cheerfully said. Absolutely no concept of making 20 cups at once and then just handing them over. Nope, each one received its teabag and she stirred it and squeezed out the bag. Good time to chat to other bikers. I managed a quick chat with a few of the staff whose articles I really enjoy and then I split from the protest ride and relished some sweeping country roads home. A good day out, a good cause and please can we protest some more sir?.

P.S. Bike magazine even printed one of my silly comments. Fame at last.

Hydraulics and good vibrations

I spent Wednesday walking Prague and snapping away. One of the first places I saw was a restaurant and jewellers called Kingstone! Later I went for a meal in a small courtyard restaurant. The waiter spoke German and offered me a 'typical Czech dinner. It was pork in a brown gravy with slices of dumpling that looked like bread with cream and cranberries. I did not like the gravy at all. I have tried many Czech beers but nothing was really outstanding. Still, the atmosphere was fabulous and I will return one day. Thursday morning I packed and went to ride off when the clutch lever just flopped to the bar. The Hydraulic fluid had gone. Now I was suspicious of a leak as I had had the bike serviced just over a week before. The hotel receptionist was extremely helpful and after a few miles walking I was back with dot4 fluid from a petrol station. Cost me a fiver. I topped it up but did not bleed it so it was a right fandango to ride with just a few millimetres of play. Add to that my misreading of the google maps and I ended up taking the old Highway6 out to Germany instead of the new Autobahn 6 directly to Nuernberg! It deposited me 50 miles to the north of the A6 in germany. The route was so tortuous and diverted and ripped up by endless roadworks that four hours later I cheered with relief as I saw the big sign declaring 'Freistat Bayern'. I had made it to Bavaria! I rode to a petrol station, tanked up on fuel and Nurnberger Bratwurst and a Weissbier. I had to cancel my visit to my former boss and ride all the way to Offingen (near Augsburg in southern Bavaria). My son-in law has a well equipped workshop there. He's designing and building a very specialised drill rig. It uses sonic vibration to drill through very difficult terrain. I managed to find the slave cylinder and bleed the clutch that evening. It's very satisfying to do maintenance work on your bike. Normally I am too lazy to bother. At the restaurant that evening I chatted to two lads who were WALKING from the very south of Germany to the far north of the Country. They were dressed in the traditional clothes of a journeyman (apprentice builder). People seemed to like that they were keeping the tradition alive and helped them in any way they could. Friday morning I spent servicing the RSV and learning all about Paul's rig. He invented a new type of slurry pump and I stayed to see it tested. I was late getting away and then I hit major traffic on the A8/A5/A6. It began to pour down so I dodged under an overpass with some other bikers and slipped on my waterproofs. A bit like closing the gate after the horse has bolted but I needed to minimise the soaking. Needless to say 15 minutes up the road on the way to Mannheim the sun came out and cooked me! I've worked out how to control the weather. If you want rain for your garden - light a BBQ. If you want sunshine put on rain gear. I couldn't make it to Brussel so I called my friend and then found a hotel in Aachen for the night. Wienerschnitzel and Weissbier fixed all the aches and I started my calculations for fuel consumption on the trip. I first called at a small hotel named Goering! It was full. I think I'd change the name if it was mine! Saturday morning saw me up at 6am and riding fast in the cold air to Brussel. Now as much as I like Brussel, it is the most difficult city in the world to find your way around. Every roundabout has 20 streets coming off of it and the street names are so long and the sign (if there is one) so small that you have no chance of reading it. I went by instinct and memory and managed to get within 2 minutes of Lionel's place before resorting to calling him for directions. It was great to see him again and after a few coffees he kindly drove ahead of me and put me on the E40 to Calais. Two hours later I was boarding the ferry for home. Where, of course, it was pissing down. I had a good chat with some BMW R1200GS riders and we all had to pull in and pull on the rain gear. It stopped raining.
Home, pub, reflect, calculate, download over 200 photos, sleep like Rip Van Winkle. One thing I learned, my next trip will be a relaxing tour with Extra Mile Bike Tours! The next weekend is the Bike protest ride where we can all pretend we are hippies. That's the next blog.

Then we take Berlin...

It would be hard to ask for anything better. The sun was shining and at last the temperature is summer grade instead of arctic. My tank bag/tail pack arrived the day before departure. I had spent hours running around looking for a tank bag in case it didn’t arrive but hated the strap-on tank bags. Way too messy and complicated and even they wouldn’t work on the RSV.

I was none too pleased to realise that it has a plastic tank. Even more irritating was to discover that the dealer who sold it to the previous owner had done a PDI and not even noticed that the filler cap assembly had no seals. Petrol poured from a filled tank on hard acceleration and, trust me, a burning willie does not make for a fun ride. I will get the proper gaskets but there was no way to get them before my first big ride. So I used a huge O ring from some tractor oil filter. It’s not a perfect fit but it seems to have done the job. I was averaging about 40-42mpg and the first tankful on the ride to Dover averaged over 50mpg. That was at speeds of about 80mph for 90% of the trip. The M25 was flowing nicely and THAT was a miracle akin to turning water into wine. Tanked up and booked in I rolled to the ferry with no passport checks and was ushered onto the Sea France ferry within 5 minutes of arrival by biker-friendly staff. I'm a member of MAG and booked through Sport Travel Solutions (Julie Warnes) after reading her advert and saved quite some money.

Sea France had solid fixings and a clean, modern, spacious ship. I chatted to a few bikers. Some riding to watch MotoGP at Le Mans, two French lads that had just completed a tour of England and Wales and a well-travelled Buell rider and his partner that were touring the Rhine. The English are a bit reserved in answering questions about where they hail from so we laughed when we eventually discovered we were virtually neighbours! Off I wandered amongst 10 million school kids from all over Europe and grabbing a cold beer sat at a table looking at France and listening to Bob Dylan and Mick Jagger on my MP3. The sun was still shining!

I had pre-booked my hotel in Duisburg and agreed to do my best to be there by 8:30pm. I was off the ferry at 5pm and had to do 380Km in 3 1/2 hours.  Not a big problem...until one learned that it was a European bank holiday and that some twit in Antwerp managed to stuff his car into someone else's bloody 'baby on board' 4x4 barge. As my sister says, "I hope he had the courtesy to kill himself". 50Km of 'Stau' and I get to crawl through at 20Km per hour! Once out the other end of the nightmare I hunkered down behind the screen and leathered it. It's not all that pleasurable across Belgium. There are only 40 ton articulated lorries from Poland and Slovenia on their motorways. Solid walls of these behemoths prevent anyone from entering or exiting the motorways!

I finally managed to make the Netherlands (I call it the Never-never-lands on account of the boredom). There I noted that all humans in a car are TOWING. I mean TOWING. Trailers, caravans, fold-down-tents, anything as long as they tow something! I now know that Dutch babies are born with an "anhangerkuplung" (towball) on their arse. There does seem to be a competition between how many bicycles you can attach to the rear of your Volvo and how upright you can sit as you tow your caravan but in general the scheme is simple. Bring Germany to a halt by towing things at a slow pace.

I finally entered Germany at some ungodly speed. Well, it was actually quite modest but on an Aprilia RSV1000 120mph FEELS like 280mph. All my mental calculations to stay awake worked as I rolled past the Duisberg 'Chemie Fabrik stink' and a bit beyond that pong found my hotel. Very nice for the price. As the landlady rushed out for her night out I sauntered to a pub for Frikedelen (hamburgers with nothing but mustard) and a few Weissbier. The people were so friendly it was embarrassing.

Saturday morning I enjoyed a superb german breakfast for old times sake and headed off to see an old friend near Bielefeld. I got there on time to find he had a very clean Yamaha 750 V-twin Super Tenere. We rode to his new house in the forest and then said our goodbyes. 400Km to my daughter's apartment in Berlin. It was 2pm. Could I make it for my estimated 6pm? Try 6:05 mate! And it would have been 5:30pm but for Google maps!

So I managed Berlin at the said time and really liked it. That city needs a few visits to get it all. My daughter Stephanie and her husband Paul took me around on Sunday on a mountain bike with a hatchet for a saddle but even the medeival torture machine couldn't spoil the day. I was most amazed by the number of canals/tributaries/rivers...hence the map link as I remembered just how important rivers are in European history. No river? Your a NOBODY DUDE!  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Elbe_Einzugsgebiet.png 

 During one of our walks to a really cool Sunday market we saw a baby bird learning to fly. I patted it and as I took it's photo the mother flew down and fed it a grub! The poor little bugger flew into windows and cars but was learning quickly. It reminded me of my riding...crash, try again, crash, try again. The Sunday market was packed and my favourite was the 'beach bar'. Soft sand, cool beer and live music. Check out the photo of the 'Ordungsamt' chap. It means Orderliness Bureau! Only in Germany eh?

Then off to Dresden where I tried to warm up at a petrol station en route and met Peter the Aussie pilot with a 1951 VW Beetle. Dresden was lovely but my stop was just for a few moments to snap some pics. Then on to Prague. I stopped near the border to learn that as a motorcyclist I did not need to buy a Vignette for the motorways for 10Euros. (£2,000 I assume by today's rates - I renamed the GBP as Great British Pesos).                                                                                         The flat, boring roads gave way to increasing hills of serious height and beauty. The roads here are very good as motorways and even the rougher small roads are in FAR better repair than Britains A roads. It's unbelievable to suddenly view England as a third world country (try 4th world). The bike has been perfect but as I entered Prague in rush hour the clutch hydraulics began to play up a wee bit and gave me a few anxious moments as the bike tried to imitate one of those bucking-bull rides at big BBQs. Arriving in rush hour with a grabby clutch and looking for somewhere to stay (cheap) had me a tad stressed for 5 minutes. I spotted some 'apartments' and enquired. Cheap, 10 minutes from the old town and I can cook for myself. Cool. The fact that my Aprilia is right opposite a Police station has me smug as a bug in a rug.

1/2 an hour later I was off with my camera in my now ripped jeans (damn!) as my leathers aired in a spacious room with TV and WiFi. Endless lanes and gorgeous buildings soon had me lost but not worried. I was opposite the Florence Police station so I didn't need to memorize Vrdlakbkyzchy...

After another glorious day it's started to rain so I decided to spend the evening with a few Czech biers and some Moldavian red wine in my cheapo apartment. I'll cook some pasta later. I have a million photos of Prague (A MUST VISIT CITY) and I really loved the views in Dresden too. How beautiful it must have been before Churchill ordered it's destruction (Retaliation for the bombing of Coventry) is beyond imagining. Hence the map (I LOVE maps!) of the Elbe that starts here and flows to Hamburg. (Not McDonalds you duffers! The original city!) By the way, I'm enjoying an ORIGINAL Budweiser (Budvar) beer! Looks like Anhauser-Busch even stole the logo!

I'm not keen on the food here. The tins in the supermarket have that 'eastern' "soviet troops in the trenches" look and seems to be mostly fish of suspicious origin. Smoking is so common that all you hear in adjoining rooms is the splatter of lung-chunks against walls. It's easy to spot eastern slav guys. They look like avatars through the fag smoke...Borat has nothing on my political incorrectness eh?

I was too busy gawking at the architecture to Czech out the Czicks but this city has a lot of nice looking ladies. The problem is - they speak Czech! OMG is this an UGLY language! I have taken photos of some posters and signs. The best was a political poster (one assumes) with the slogan  of Vrzlidgy pidgy! That's as close as I can come. Brzldvky vldsaziky prznatsky says it all. Everything ends in the letter Y. See my blog photos (coming soon to a cinema near you) of Mezy Hot Dogy available at all good petrol stations. One assumes mustard is available too...

Reading your little free hotel map is beyond mortals with an IQ under 4678 but the people like English and it's amazing how many speak it well enough to help. I use the sun to navigate.

Well it looks like I am facing rain for the last 2 1/2 days of my ride but I'll bet I scoot through untouched! hahahaha. My froggtoggs suit kept me warm on the ride south from Berlin so if it keeps me dry tomorrow then all's well. I'll attempt to post a photo album of my trip. I say attempt as these web blogs are horrific to work with.

Hope you are all safe and sound and happy and very jealous...

As we say in Prague... Vczsky mldgvisky brnosknzgky. Go figure.

R1MadBrit rides the awsome Moto Morini and manages to park his Aprilia in London!

Wow am I late getting this blog out! My pooter blew. As in Windows7 opens but without any sign-in box. It's going back for repairs. My lousy luck is world famous (Everyone sing along: "If it wasn't for bad luck -I wouldn't have no luck at all"). Let me explain. I DO have 'luck' in many huge areas of life. But Sod's Law rules every minute of it. I'm sort of like a chap that wins a round-the-world boat trip only to find the terms and conditions stipulate you spend the entire trip sitting on a drawing pin (thumb tack to Yanks). So I thought I should report my incident of last night that flies in the face of reason. I parked my motorcycle in Westmnster!

I was due to meet my business partner at a curry house in London for a freebie meal. I checked motorcycle parking spaces on my sister's pooter to find that Westminster charges to park bikes now. (Greedy swine councillors!) Undetered I left a bit of extra time and rode off into the sunset. Oddly enough I even got a tad muddled on the route in and wasted a further 5 minutes. Then a detour due to road works at the bottom of Queensway added another 5 minutes. I finally rode past the front door of said restaurant and swung right immediately as I saw a motorcycle-only-parking-bay right across the road. There was even a tiny spave left next to the 3,756 Honda 90 Pizza delivery bikes. I squeezed in, making sure not even my mirror crossed the end-of-bay white line so the gangs of Somalian Traffic Wardens couldn't book me, checked the fees and found that they stop charging at 6:30pm. It was EXACTLY 6:30pm. Cocky sod enters curry house as a dozen Bin Laden-look-alikes leave...

Flippin' cold riding home. 6C (42F)! Britain's longest winter I reckon!

I have been riding quite a bit lately. Mostly to visit dealers to promote Extra Mile Bike Tours and MotoZania.com. One event I really enjoyed was an evening at Haslemere Motorcycles (no longer in Haslemere though!) where R1 riding World Superbike star James Toseland attended. There are pics and video of his visit on their website.

Now I expected the usual breeze in, wave, rush out leaving 6 signed autographs. Nope. This boy was gracious, witty and pleasant and spent the entire evening there signing autographs for a queue that went round the block and then he sat and played the electric piano and sang for us! At just 23 years of age his many talents blew us away. Now I am not an autograph hunter but I did get my poster with a signature for the 'office' wall. It seemed disrespectful not to!

On that evening the sales chap Mark asked me if I had seen 'IT'. ??? 'IT' turned out to be a Suzuki Burgman with a big label that said Sold to James Kingstone on it! The RATS! In front of all those people! My mate Andy will laugh about that! Andy and I sneeringly suggest that the other should be doddering about on a Burgerman with day-glo safety harness and tesco carrier bags in the footwells. Haslemere Motorcycles have indulged our pranks on one another for many years. Now it was my turn to get sneered at. With a cast of thousands present. I'll kill you guys! I also met the Yamaha rep that night who described the new R1 in terms that made me drool and doubt my change to Aprilia. One day I'll snag a ride and see how good it is. When I win the Lotto...

The problem James Toseland's niceness has created for me is that I was cheering for Leon Camier on the Aprilia RSV4 in World Superbikes. Now I have to cheer for BOTH of them! (Not that that is odd for me. I cheered for both Munich Bayern and Manchester United as they battled it out in footbal. United won. Very dramatic. We thought the lads would beat me up in the pub as I cheered for the Germans but once I explained they laughed and bought me pint.)

I met Leon very briefly at LAX awaiting passport control some years ago and sort of cheered him on ever since. When he romped away with the British Superbike title last year on the Yamaha R1 I was at Brands to cheer him on. I must be effective at cheering because he won all 3 races. (It was a bank holiday Monday). That was the day the Rover destroyed my beloved '98 R1. I blasted it from Brands and slowing to a pleasant pootle with just 5 miles to go...kerbang! Over the bonnett and down the road. Yesterday I went for an MRI scan on the busted hand and foot, 9 months later.

Anyway, there I was as a happy R1 supporter and Camier went to Aprilia. And then I bought my Aprilia RSV1000. So I cheer for Aprilia and feel guilty every time I sign into MotoZania.com as R1MadBrit. Maybe I need to change to R1RSVMadBrit? I think just Mad Brit would be more appropriate.

One of the dealers I visited was Three Cross Motorcycles near(ish) Wimborne, Dorset. I do believe Leon Camier lives there. Anyway, salesman and generally good chap Steve Thomas takes me in to a showroom to show me a Moto Morini 1200 Corsaro in Italian red with Termignonis. Starts the beast up. OMG it was like Armaggedon with a sidestand. He casually asked if I had my licence (always my dear boy) and said he needed me to ride it 20 miles to the petrol station to fill the tank. The sun was shining, roads near empty, the fields were golden and the English countryside looked like a 1920's Weetabix advert! That bike is AMAZING! Grunt? That bugger will pull dead elephants up walls! The supermoto stance was very confidence inspiring and in no time at all I felt relaxed and comfortable. I liked the low-speed handling and the swooping bend-altering flight was more akin to snowboarding. I was planning to mug someone to buy it! 30mph, 6th gear, I opened up and away she went without a glitch or a "how's your auntie?". As I rolled into Three Cross Motorcycles to return the bike a chap was waiting his turn to test ride. Asked my opinion the second I dismounted all I could stammer was "WOW". He grinned and went off to change into his gear. If he can afford it I hate his guts...

I know it sounds like this is a plug for that dealer but the atmosphere in the place was excellent and I like that. I will say though that almost all the dealers I have visited in England are super friendly.

I also visited Snell Ducati in Alton Hampshire to say hello to 'Desmo' Dave. He raved about the Desmo and the new Multistrada which is selling like Nissan Micras at a pensioner's convention. Apparently they have the last Desmo you can buy so nick yer local MP's fiddled expenses and get down there.

Another event I enjoyed was the Goodwood Breakfast Club on Sunday 2nd May. A mate from the pub with a Triumph tiger 955i met me at 8am and off we rode with threats of rain overhead. The ride from Haslemere to Goodwood is GLORIOUS with cute English villages and forested twisty roads. The breakfast was £10! We wandered amongst the bikes and old vehicles for an hour and then blatted our way back to our local pub where an even bigger English breakfast is just £3.69. Gotta save for fuel. We just beat the rain too. Oh dear, it's raining, I guess we'll just HAVE to have a pint until it stops...

Photos: Don't mention the war! VW camper van one can hire if one can withstand 20mpg at $6.92  per US Gallon. The biggest bike I have ever seen the Boss Hoss bus - my lens wasn't wide enough to get the sauna in the topbox. A MotoGuzzi single cylinder Italian Army bike with weedy rifle. No wonder they surrendered. Proof that spring has sprung in England and the streets are lined with blossoms. And Rovers!

Finally, I got the Aprilia serviced by Racing Creations and took Paul Coltman's advice to ride the A339 home through Alton. What a lovely English road! The sunshine has been much appreciated but it's still so flamin' cold! I blame the Highafalutin Iceland volcano.

Last but not least I am investigating the price of shipping my 05R1 from AZ to UK (or even Spain). I say investigating because not one of the logistic companies has responded to my on-line requests for a price. I really just want to sell the bike but no one seems to be buying Stateside right now so I'd rather have it where I can enjoy it. If anyone knows a good international bike shipper I'd like to hear from them.

Just alive in spite of the weather here...

Try this for a wrist-slitting list.
It's Tuesday. Even the name of the day is ugly.
It's raining. Again. After months of non-stop winter rain it has started again. They predict 34 years of non-stop rain here in England. I read it on google.
I have bronchitis. I cough all night. The green goop bitter cough syrup does NOT work. How can it? It goes it's petro-chemical, poisonous route to my stomach. The cough is in my lungs you duffer doctors! This gunk is supposed to line your throat. The only thing that will stick in one's throat are Lima beans and fish bones. The antibiotics will work just before I die from lack of sleep.
Slit those wrists yet folks? This will cheer you up! I still really like my Aprilia RSV Mille.
See! The very mention of a bike and we are all happy, healthy and full of dreams to ride to far-flung places. (Who flung them there anyway?) What we Brits mean by far-flung places is anywhere the sun shines for at least 1 hour a week. So when the sun did pop out and the polar bears retreated I took my first real ride (over 2 hours each way). It seems a lot of people want me and my tools to do jobs so after promising to help an old friend I realised my old Golf was off the road and I'd have to lug some hefty tools in a backpack to Colchester way out in Essex. (I think they send space probes out there). It qualifies as far-flung not only on distance but because it apparently sees more sunshine than any other part of Britain.
So here are two photos to prove that Essex people have seen the sun and to maybe convince some of you adventurous Americans to skip Hawaii this year and call us about some fabulous British rides to historical places and pubs. (Who cares if the pub's historical?) The top photo is a popular pub near Colchester on the estuary to the English Channel and the second photo is Colchester Castle of which I know nothing. Actually, Colchester is the oldest city in the UK and was founded by the Romans so there is a lot of history in the town. There is a very old, oak half-timbered Inn where some chaps in boats shot muskets at some other chaps hiding inside (probably some Catholic versus Protestant fight) whilst rowing past. My then 13 year old son drily remarked "World's first drive-by shooting".
Haslemere to Colchester is not a very long ride but with about 60lbs of tools in a backpack I stuck to the dull but quick A3/M25/A12 route. Great coming back over Dartford. At the top of the bridge the views of the Thames are superb. Three things eventually emerged from my longish ride. Speed: I definitely ride slower on this baby. It may well prove a licence saver. The reason is because I enjoy the character of the engine so much I don't NEED to go as fast. The big thrill with the R1 was the RUSH of acceleration. The thrill of the RSV is in the sound and the handling. I'm all too content to burble along. I'm sure the Autobahns will alter that. Fuel Economy: I can't reach the R1's 45mpg but I can manage about 41mpg on the Aprilia. Whilst at the NEC bike show I reported that I had been given a fuel additive to test. Well I have not forgotten and after a few more tankfuls and some long runs I will see if that product helps. Watch this space.
Comfort: The R1 just has the edge on comfort as respects hand/pegs/bum angles so I will be looking at altering the gear-change and rear brake levers to see what I can do to suit my frame. The clutch/front-brake levers are fully adjustable. The mirrors are also to be commended as absolutely clear and sharp with no fuzz of vibration. If my cold-weather gear wasn't so wide on the arms as the wind flattens it I would have very good rear vision. Just tuck in the arm a bit and spot the copper! Wrist-ach was no problem. Oh, by the way, it seems the bike likes me as the constant resetting to Kilomtres has stopped.
My latest plan is to ride to Prague to Czech it out (couldn't resist that one) via Berlin where my daughter now resides. Then on down to Munich to see friends and home via the Black Forest (Schwartzwald) if I have the time/cash/stamina. For that ride I want my twin-lens video fitted so I'll be seeing Paul Coltman of Racing Creations about servicing and adjustments and fitting out the video camera.
See how bike riding plans can fight off rain/bronchitis-induced depression? That and a copy of Bike Magazine with a nice hot cuppa...