Chapter 1 - Well learned friends of the online biker community, the time has come to blog up and as the present incumbent in this lofty position time to put up.

In a previous life elsewhere friends and colleagues were very kind and forthcoming in their praise for my muttered rantings and jangled scribbling, telling me I should have a wider audience, I’m not sure if they were humouring me or not (being of an anxious disposition) so here goes.

There now follows a rather long (hopefully not long winded and tedious) account of the greatest ride of my life. Thus far the greatest adventure I have undertaken on two wheels with two friends for most excellent company and three sturdy steeds. Now it was originally written just over four years ago so is not fresh but hopefully is a tale of derring do and will paint a picture in your mind.

Who knows it may encourage you to saddle up and set controls for the heart of the sun, to burn a bit of fuel and use your bike for the purpose intended, perhaps visit countries and gaze upon wonders that are not outside your back door or the usual same old same old you would usually encounter on a Sunday run.

I apologize to the more faint hearted in advance for the odd profanity here and there but at least it is in context and is in the vernacular after all. I’m not a trained journalist so have no hang ups about editorial style etc. It’s how it was with no embellishment and only the tangential stories missing.

The people involved are real and know who they are and I thank them once again for their company and comradeship.

As I mentioned it is rather long, so I’m going to serialize it to conclusion over the next few weeks. It’s not a daily thing, but it will give me some breathing space to ponder the world of two wheels and bring you various dark utterings from the real world.

Fingers crossed a few kind souls will read this to its conclusion and I may even persuade one or two of you to do the same ‘The greatest ride of my life’ (And I don’t want any predictable innuendo from this title, all you wags out there).






Chapter 1


‘Road tripping with my two favourite allies. We’re fully loaded, we got snacks and supplies. It’s time to leave this town, it’s time to steal away……..’ Red Hot Chilli Peppers – Kalifornication


‘Twas the summer of 2001, not a bad June that year, this is when the tale proper begins. The first turning of the wheels towards my most memorable ride ever.

Months of talking about this trip enabled us all (my compadres and I) to drink much ale, yellow beer and Guinness in the planning stages and whetting our appetites for the task ahead. The plan afoot was to immerse ourselves in the heady cocktail of bikes, beer, racing and any other nefarious activity we could find or stumble across at the legendary Isle of Man TT.

Phil, Ed and I were all road riders predominantly. We had all indentured ourselves in the school of two wheels over the lost years of our youth from the earliest age, riding in all weathers. Getting soaked for hours. The freezing cold, creaky knees and bloated with cold fingers and the odd crash or two. Trying to dry hideously inadequate sodden gloves on mate’s radiators as well as the rest of the usual shoddy and completely useless riding gear that was around at the time.

We all appeared to be from a similar mould and were obviously not destined to be gentlemen motobicyclists. None of us were content to leave alone, throwing our money down bottomless pits in order to squeeze a little extra performance out of our mounts, not really knowing any better at the time. This was the age of the stiinkwheel, of bendy frames and skinny wooden tyres. Somehow for us (unlike most of the fey youths of today) car’s didn’t cut it, they after all were invented for shopping not thrills, they didn’t get your heart pumping every time you approached your favourite corner aiming for that extra mile an hour or so with which to boast of your outlandish feats of speed and daring. You couldn’t buy pipes or lovely shiny braced swing arms from such hallowed names as JMC and Metmachex. This was the hey day of Harris performance and Spondon. Bimota were probably still making money before the sly sons of Nippon cottoned on, copied and ultimately beat them at their own game, driving their products into semi oblivion many times

Our lives revolved around bikes and to this day generally still do; we strode through biker life content.

For this trip we had progressed from youthful high spirits on old shitters to fat tyred horsepower hungry beasts of brushed aluminium and streamlined plastic. Time to use them in anger, set a purpose, head for the sun, head for the hills, hit the road and keep on rolling.