Patches

Yesterday was another nice Sunday, which as usual = Riding. 

We headed west, out on the A40, just to do the curvy forested section between Stokenchurch and Postcombe. This involved getting caught up in the Surrey HOG Chapter run (don’t they have enough pretty roads in Surrey?) all the way from High to West Wycombe before we could pull free. I enjoyed checking out all their bikes, but I have to wonder what the comments were when they stopped – we broke all the Chapter Run riding rules - we overtook, we filtered past... we did everything that you don't do during a run, because it breaks the run up.

The reason they might have been confused by our presence is that half of them weren’t wearing their Chapter vests. On an official ride, you generally wear your vest – which is decorated with badges and patches from rallies and meets, all of which create potential conversations in a group of bikers, but which, crucially, has the HOG emblem patch and Chapter banner patch on the back. It helps on the road to know who is and isn’t with your ride, and therefore who you are and aren’t supposed to be following/ allowed to overtake with impunity.

Of course, today I got into work and saw the news of a sometime problem with patches – the fight between two bike gangs in Waco, which left 9 dead. Don’t cars and legislators pose enough of a threat to bikers without us gunning for each other?

Sunday Best

On any dry Sunday, I like to go riding. I am not alone in this pursuit – there’s something about nice weather and the lack of deadlines and pressure that makes the concept of the motorised equivalent of a Sunday stroll very attractive.

Lynn generally agrees, so 2 weeks ago, we headed to Brighton, chrome all a-sparkling and a-blinding in the sun. (I did finally get around to cleaning the bike).

This being the first nice clear Sunday in a while, many a classic vehicle had crept out of the garage for a spin, which is always nice to see: a seriously vintage yellow Rolls Royce heading up a queue of cars around a series of S-bends, a Diahatsu Copen which entertained me while I tried to decipher whether it was Copen or Caper (I think Caper would have been a better choice, but what do I know?) driven by a woman channelling Grace Kelly, fashion-wise, a few Morgans  enjoying the looks they get, and when I got back to London, a classic American split-screen convertible blocking the bus stop.

The Sound of Your Own Wheels

The disadvantage of Bank Holiday weekends is the predictably miserable weather. The advantage of Bank Holiday weekends is the lack of time pressure. After a month of 6-day working weeks, with my throttle hand itching and my sanity slipping, the idea of a 3 day weekend with the opportunity to go riding and no need to check my work email or be on call had me purring like a cat in the sun. Or like my bike, which stopped growling at my neglect in fairly short order and proceeded to purr happily along the diversion around the closure of the A29 at Ockley.
Monday, you see, had dawned dry and hinting at sunny. A pub lunch at the Parrot called.
This time, we had no satnav, and I was leading, crossing my toes (you can't cross your fingers on a bike) that I remembered the diversion route from the pub website, which I'd last seen weeks ago.
You go right around the roundabout at Clark's Green and take the first left. Which isn't what the diversion signs say, but I swallowed and put my trust in a pub's desire for customers to find it in the first place.
I did quite well, with only 2 sudden stops. The first when I got distracted by a 'freshly brewed coffee' sign outside a farm shop, and the second when the turn to Forest Green was vastly sooner than expected. Luckily, only Lynn was behind me, and she knows to give me my space. I've never liked the feeling of someone reading over my shoulder, and on a bike that sense of personal space expands exponentially.
The B2126 is an underrated road, which runs though beautiful bluebell woods, which I pointed out repeatedly - because it's not that common to have a road running between blue-carpeted glades for miles, whatever the literature says.
I proudly pulled into the Parrot, where there is a new coffee roastery attached to the farm shop. This was also a fascinating discovery, especially after my limited sleep the previous night. I like coffee shops with free sample espressos and chocolates to go with them.