GOING THE DISTANCE

Currently, in the Year of the Nurse, we have a pandemic. The irony is delicious, which is just as well, as almost all restaurants are closed, and the supermarket shelves are bare.

The more responsible among us are practising social distancing and self-isolation. According to those issuing the guidelines for this, we should stay at least two metres from anyone we don’t already live with (and three steps from those we do). So, it’s worth noting that a bike is pretty effective social distancing in any case. By the time you have gloves and a helmet (buff optional), and you’re practising safe following distance, you’re a good 2m from anyone who could infect you.

Which is just as well, because if I couldn’t ride, I’d probably go nuts.

RIDING BLIND

A couple of weeks ago, a combination of a hurry, a wet leaf and a pothole resulted in my coming off a bicycle and hitting the ground with, according to the maths, about a metric ton of force. Mostly, I landed on my left hand. Shockingly, I didn’t actually break anything. But the hand is finally the same size and colour as its counterpart, so I went riding on the bike that has an engine. This may have been a mistake, because the left hand, as every biker knows, is the clutch hand.

Now, Harley has lightened their clutches over the past few years, but they’re not exactly featherweight. Every gear change was blindingly painful. And I mean blindingly. This is not an advisable state in which to ride when there’s already a) holiday traffic, b) wet roads and c) bright sunlight to contend with.

However, that impromptu physio session now complete without accident (although I must have been hell to be stuck behind), it will hopefully get easier again. And since it's winter, less bright, too, which should help the blinding factor.

HOGSURFING

Recently, there have been a lot of rainy days, and windy days. Whether you call it climate change or not, there’s been some seriously foul weather, at least for riding. So naturally, on the first dry day, I took the bike for a spin.
Well, surf.
Well, aquaplane. Blindly.

The roads were still soaked, and while the sun was shining, it was shining on water, so the glare was intense. And while most of the diesel had been washed off the road by the ongoing downpours, there’s always new diesel being spilled. The end result is that rather than riding, tires gripping the asphalt, one ends up surfing, tires sliding and gliding over the pretty rainbows of the sun/diesel/water mixture, while one squints frantically through the glare to find and follow any dry (or dryer) ribbon one can.

The trick, of course, is to ease off the throttle a bit and follow, as far as possible, the section of road best dried by the heat of passing traffic. This cuts down filtering options, but all road paint is slippery as oil when wet anyway, so that’s not necessarily a bad thing for one’s health.

The autumnal hillsides are beautiful, though, all green and red and gold and vermillion in the clear light. Having to slow down a touch to safely surf the roads has its advantages.

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...