SUMMER'S END

There’s a fair amount of pick-your-own when it comes to when the seasons change. You can go astronomical, official, linguistic, academic or – well – natural. And summer, according to nature, is over. I noticed this on the last ride, when I could smell sweetgrass (I had no idea it grew in this country, but you learn something new every day) in the fields, and hay drying in bales, and the acrid damp of the first bonfire of the autumn. The leaves, too, are turning yellow and brown and falling – although in some cases, I’m prepared to believe they just got parched in the last heatwave. 

Summer’s signature of lavender fields, barbecues and mown grass has dissipated, and no matter the weather, the message is clear. As far as the plants and the environment are concerned, it is now autumn. Summer, regardless of calendars, stars or even Celtic terminology, is at its end.

MS ADVENTURES

Of course, I am entirely pro women on two wheels. I still remember many years ago stopping to admire a lady in knee-high heeled boots threading a red Ducati through London rush hour like the bike weighed nothing and the traffic was simply so many roadworks cones. I more recently got stuck in roadworks alongside a lady on a Brixton BX125, a bike I’d never seen before. very nice! It’s a new bike, but very much in retro cafe racer style. We had a brief mutual admiration society before we could move on.
And when I came back to my bike after a coffee stop, she was getting chatted up by a bus full of senior citizens. She’s a beautiful machine and attracts a lot of attention, but it’s more often from men or other bikers. This time, the attention was from women, and even more so when they realised she’s mine.
The more we can get women onto bikes and into biking, the better.

ACTS OF GOD

Where I grew up and first learned to drive, there was a weird little piece of legislation that said accidents that occurred while sneezing were acts of God and therefore not covered by almost any insurance. Luckily for me, hay fever wasn’t a problem there. It is, however, a problem where I live now, and I have frequently sneezed, veered a bit, recovered and wondered what the situation would be should I one day veer into something while sneezing. Are hay fever-induced incidents covered by any insurance anywhere? Or are such things a convenient loophole for insurers not to pay? And has anyone ever stopped to work out how many accidents do occur, on a global or national, annual or monthly basis, because someone sneezed?

'TIS THE SEASON

Every summer, just when the schools break up and the roads get crowded with people trying to get away, there is invariably a sudden sprouting of roadworks on all major routes. Currently the M4 has about a 5-junction run of them, the M25, A24, A272, A205, A243 and A3 all have their share, and minor urban B-roads also have their share of pipework, resurfacing and other excuses to cause traffic jams and slipping/ skidding in hot weather. 

And lately, we have had hot weather. Which means, with an air-cooled engine, the odds of overheating increase exponentially. Thus far, I’ve manged to avoid that, thanks to very nice cars making me space to filter, but it’s come close. 

Why those who schedule such things as resurfacing and pipe-maintenance work invariably choose summer as the very best time to do it, I do not know. I can only think they don’t drive and certainly don’t ride...

REFUELLING

Some things go together. Bikes and coffee, winter Sunday rides and pub roasts, clear skies and a full tank... You get the picture. 
Between life in general and lousy weather on weekends, I haven't managed to ride much lately, so I was in almost as desperate a need of a ride as the bike by the time the skies and my schedule cleared. Sometimes the best way to refuel my battery is a good ride. I'm really not that different from my bike.  
As usual after a hiatus, the engine growled and yawned for a bit before waking up properly, then purred very happily all the way to a coffee shop I'd passed previously, but never tried. It had looked promising, so I made a mental note and luckily managed to remember that. It's not a massively long ride, so is great for winter runs or busy-life runs, when you really need a break from everything but can't afford to take a very long one. 
Southdown Coffee and Wine in Brockham off the A25 has paved parking - no slippery gravel here - and the coffee is good. I can recommend the pastries, too. The staff are friendly, and wished me a safe ride when I left. Places with pro-biker staff and good coffee are to be treasured. And frequented, in the most literal sense of the word, so as to help to keep them in business.

WINGING IT

Last summer, there was a lot of media attention on the decline of insert-insect-of-choice. Part of the proposed solution was to allow kerbs and islands to grow a little longer, to be mini-meadows. This has certainly had an effect on winged life, as well as being really pretty to ride past, or be stuck in traffic beside. My visor is dead-bug-central far more often than last summer. I even hit a butterfly on the motorway – which hasn’t ever happened to me before. 

In mainland Europe, you get poppies and company growing right up to the road in some places, so close that a bird can fly out of a hedge and straight into my arm. I’m not sure who was more stunned when this happened – me or it - and the same question occurred as the pretty butterfly wings plastered themselves to my headlight.

PICKING UP THE PIECE(S)

They say that there are only two types of bike. The ones that have been dropped, and the ones that haven't been dropped yet. Which is why it's always a good idea to be sure you can pick up the bike you're riding if you should, somehow, drop it. Given what bikes weigh in relation to many bikers (especially ones like me), this can look like a tall order. 

England has had a lot of rain lately, but it paused for the weekend, at least in my region. So, of course, I went riding, I parked up, kicked out my stand, which slid on a mud patch, recoiled in horror at the sliminess and folded itself back up. Of course, I was already leaning the bike onto it at this point, so the bike went over in slow, controlled stages. I got free easily enough, but was then faced with the task of picking it up again. 

Heavy sigh, about a tenth of the weight of the bike (which is 700lbs, give or take accessories, so many times the weight of me).  

Now, while I have never had to pick up this bike before, I do know the technique, so crouched down, with my back against the seat, gripped the chassis to either side and put my legs into it. This would have been easier with less mud or grippier boots, but you never get ideal conditions for these things. The key is to use the biggest muscles - legs - to do the work for you. 

The bike has a small paint chip on the edge of the foot board and some cement mortar residue on the engine case. Plus, of course, the ubiquitous and iniquitous mud. That is the sum total of its trauma. My hamstrings, on the other hand, have yet to forgive me.