INTO THE 21ST CENTURY

So now we come to the differences between then and now. Back in the 1960s motorbikes were our form of transport. We went to work on them, on holiday, rode them for pleasure at weekends, and if it rained we got wet. (I remember riding into the City one night in a blizzard, to put some urgent artwork on Red Star at New Street Station.) We rode in our everyday clothes, with a helmet and gauntlet gloves. As I said, I had prescription goggles, and I had rubber overboots to protect my shoes in bad weather. I had a black leather jacket (definitely a rocker!); Ian and I had ridden down to London especially to buy these, and he bought a brown leather flying jacket with a fur collar. In summer we would ride in our shirtsleeves. In 2001 I soon found that those days were over (although you do still see a few unenlightened or foolish souls riding around like that, especially on scooters). I was recommended to have a Gore-Tex suit, padded with Kevlar in the back and knees; I chose black with blue motifs, to match the blue on my W650. I had zip-up boots with reinforced toes, and comfortable but strong gloves, also black-and-blue.

And my Shoei helmet was, of course, a full, enclosed dome with a drop-down clear visor. This was definitely an improvement over the old days, though I usually had to leave it open a slit, letting in the cold air, if it wasn’t to steam up. I wasn’t too keen on the cheek pads, but got used to them. While I felt pretty safe in all this gear, it did make me feel rather isolated from the outside world ~ a bit like an astronaut. It also took quite an effort, and about ten minutes, to get into it all, so going for a ride took a definite commitment ~ I couldn’t just hop onto the bike at a moment’s notice as I used to in the 60s.

I had also opted to have a DataTool alarm and immobiliser fitted, to ensure that it didn’t get stolen. This meant that I had, in addition to the ignition key, a separate remote control, which gave me 30 seconds to start the machine before it started beeping. There were various options, using three buttons to disable the alarm, put it into ‘service’ mode while working on the engine, etc. I have to admit that I found this a bit intimidating, as it put me under pressure to be sure I used the remote every time before starting up; if I forgot, the alarm would go off! And the separate control had to go into a pocket sealed with Velcro, so I had to take off my gloves to fumble for it anytime I stopped. It also had indicators, but of course these were not self-cancelling as on a car, and I had to remember to cut them off after cornering; more than once a following motorist would flash to remind me. . .

On the plus side, riding this bike was a joy ~ once the weather allowed. It has to be admitted that January, February and March are not the best months for biking, and I was constantly watching the weather forecasts on TV to see if there was any chance of a ride. I also had to run-in the bike, which basically meant 600 miles before I could go over 60mph or high revs in any gear, and 1000 miles before I could really ‘open ‘er up’. But I managed to ride around most of the local ‘scenic routes’: Earlswood, Tanworth; Lapworth and Lowsonford (past the Fleur de Lys, no longer serving their pies but much more expensive meals); Kenilworth, and Warwick. Generally the roads and traffic fumes of congested Birmingham are not much fun, but I actually quite enjoyed riding through Shirley with all its traffic lights and then on out to the A3400, out through Henley and Wootton Wawen, then Stratford-upon-Avon and down to Evesham and as far as Broadway. Or, on the Alcester Road past the Maypole, on the rather nice A435 road past Wythall and on, past Coughton Court, to Studley, Alcester and Bidford. Another favourite was to go via Kings Norton, over the top of the Lickey Hills, past Catshill onto the A38, bypassing Bromsgrove and on to Droitwich and Worcester.

As the weather improved I went a bit further afield in this direction, to Kidderminster and Stourbridge or Bridgnorth. All places that I would never think of just driving to in a car, unless I had a reason to do so, such as passing through on to go on holiday. But I rarely stopped; riding was the end, not just the means. The real pleasure, of course, was getting onto good country roads with lots of curves and maybe the odd hill. This experience is totally different from anything you get driving a car. Sometimes I would return via a motorway, usually the M42, in order to get a feel for motorway driving, and to travel a bit faster than I could on normal roads.

I was also pleasantly surprised by another phenomenon, new to me: the camaraderie amongst bikers. It was very rare to pass a ‘real’ biker (as opposed to someone on a scooter or moped) going the other way without them either raising a hand or inclining their head in a sort of sideways nod of greeting, which I would reciprocate. Of course, not that it mattered a jot, but in all my gear nobody could tell whether I was 65 or 25! (I certainly felt the latter.) Not that I ever pretended to be a ‘boy racer’, naturally. My game now was to ‘cruise’; just coast around the countryside at a comfortable speed and take in the scenery, enjoying the breeze blowing in my face. Mind you, I’m not saying that I didn’t occasionally enjoy the adrenaline rush when I was able ~ safely of course ~ to open the throttle and overtake some dawdling motorist, with a satisfying roar!