Full Power, full speed ahead!

Two years ago this week I passed my Motorcycle test, on Henry my plucky little CG125, resulting in my first real ride of Sylvie, my lovely Suzuki SV650 in her restricted form. Two years on and I have been riding around on a restricted bike, been touring with full panniers and have taken many friends for a blast up the road.

So how is it to ride a full power SV650S with a handle bar conversion?

Can I start the engine now please?

There is only one word that fits Sylvie in her unrestricted form, beautiful! I am however once again back on the learning curve and this time it is a little easier. Well it was, then Carol said those word that involve great power... "Have a go on Noreen!" she said...

Right a bit, left a bit... Eek, too much power!

Riding a full power muscle bike is a revelation, but what really shines out is that there is a sense of menace with a bike this powerful, the sort of menace that lurks deep inside, the sort that wants to twist that throttle hard and sprint down the road at super speed... Me naughty? Never!

A perfect track stand, utterly still, the rider in perfect balance with machine!

So with the full power ECU back in place and the 33BHP unit sat in an envelope ready to post off to a person on the SV forum, it was time for a ride. Shame it was so damn cold.

OK, but I am not riding your bike back home!

Yes, good old Sand Bay here in Weston, a place we came when we brought Sylvie to her new home for the very first time, back in the days when a 125cc Bike scared the life out of me.

Through the mists of time, we can see Jayne in 2008!

I can nearly ride a bike me!

Now with us both on full power bikes at last, Carol no longer has to hang around at the back waiting for me to catch up. Although, in all fairness to the fabulous Sylvie, even restricted she was able to make good time on her trips out. So now I have to start learning again how to ride my bike and as a full power bike she is just awesome. So for a training ride with the wife, we headed out to Blagdon to buy some food for Alby the Barnowl. With two frozen chicks strapped to the back of Noreen, we got ready to ride home and then the heavens opened.

Got there safe, time to buy some Alby dinner.

Here comes the rain

Jayne enjoying British spring time

The ride home was awesome and watching Carol disappear into the distance reminds of just how far I have come and how far I still want to achieve. Learning to ride a bike well is not something that can be rushed with a five day training course, it is about learning skills, building experience and getting through the mistakes. Riding well takes practice and it takes training, so if I had to do my time again, I would still do it the same way. If you are about to start riding a bike, do it my way and really enjoy the learning. Every bike I have ridden so far has been an awesome place to be sat, be it Henry the Honda CG125, Agnes the Yamaha XJ400 or My dear Sylvie the Suzuki SV650S. Maybe one day when my skills are a little more refined I can enjoy the experience of taking Noreen the Kawasaki ZRX1100 for a ride, but that wont happen until I am ready and for that there is no rush.

Thank you Carol for all of your patience, training and advice, all of it was greatly appreciated. 

It is service time again...

It has been a while since we posted, but this sadly is because not much has happened. I am sad to report that Noreen the ZRX is currently languishing in the garage in need of some work, along with Agnes the XJ. Yoshi the DT50 has now gone to Alex, but as is the way with these things, it broke down the day before his CBT. Alex took his CBT on a moped and passed, as we knew he would, but the DT50 is resolutely refusing to run properly.

Then we get to Sylvie, my trusty SV650S, she has had a another hard winter, but you would not know it by looking at her. Last autumn I gave her a good coat of a corrosion preventative spray called ACF50 and this stuff is amazing. I swear that there is less corrosion on her now than there was at the end of last summer! At the start of the spring, I gave Sylvie her first wash of the year and cleaned off a winters worth of commuting filth. Under the grime in shiny glory was my precious Sylvie.

But all was not well, Sylvie's clutch was slightly out of adjustment. So I made a little video.

Well, I say that I made a video, this is of course complete lies, all I did was record some footage on my little camera before the battery ran out! Then I handed the footage over to Carol and let her perform her black magic on the Mac!

While she was doing this, she also decided that it was about time that we released our work on our side project.

PLACES I HAVE BEEN MISERABLE!

Yes, it is our aim to find really stunningly beautiful places and thoroughly un-enjoy them!
Check out the footage...

So this is what we have been up to, don't worry, we have not forgotten you all.

Until next time.
Byeeeeeee
XXX

Sylvie has gone to Motorbike Hospital and Jayne becomes a Vicar!

Sylvie was knocked over and damaged recently while she was parked up outside my place of work. So the Insurance companies have taken over in dealing with the repairs. So far it looks like she is going to be away for a while and I am greatly missing my beautiful girly bike.

While it is hard to take photos that show the damage, we have managed to get a couple.

  

Luckily it was a low speed impact, and damage was minimal, but the lesson learned here is to never rely on just parking sensors alone.

In the mean time, the Insurance company have provided me with a couple of Hire bikes while Sylvie is away. 

The first was another SV, a brand new bike with just enough miles on the clock to justify the first service! She was a beautiful bike, but with the standard clip-ons was murder to ride. Strangely, she felt much smaller than Sylvie, the seat felt lower and the bike actually felt much smaller and lighter. I cannot imagine that there are that many differences between a K3 (Sylvie) and a brand new one (K9), but I did notice an aluminum rear frame. 

Jayne and not Sylvie.

The saddest part of riding her though was not the position, it was the restriction. The SV was restricted via the horrors of a throttle stop, giving the throttle about a third of a turn before it stopped. Just lovely, in a very un-lovely kind of way. If anyone out there wants to restrict their SV, I fully recommend the restricted ECU as opposed to the throttle stop way. The ECU allows full use of the throttle and allows the engine to breath fully, but electronically restricts the bike rev speed. This keeps you legal, but still allows your bike to feel like a big bike. The throttle stop prevents the engine from hitting the power band, so it is always under powered, unless you keep it in lower gears than you would normally use. Then it goes everywhere screaming, which sounds great, but looks pathetic!

The next bike delivered was a Honda CBF600 and I was expecting great things.

Castration is a terrible thing to do to a bike.

The CBF was comfortable, but felt narrow at the bars and overly top heavy. Riding it though revealed that it had been badly castrated by the throttle stop, so badly in fact that it was unable to make it up our local hill, two up, in second gear. 

The ride to Gloucester was a nightmare of struggling to keep up with Carol and Alex on the gorgeous Kawasaki ZRX1100, the Honda was simply outclassed, which is such a shame because I have always held Honda Motorcycles in such high regard. The Honda has a power band starting at about six and a half thousand revolutions of the engine, the throttle stop prevents it getting much past four thousand unless it is again ridden in low gear and thrashed like a loon. Riding the Honda is an experience that in terms of excitement I can only compare with extreme sports such Knitting, embroidery or ironing! For such a good looking bike, it has a terribly bland ride and trying to fit Sylvie's luggage was a disaster because there are so few fitting points. The grab rail is actually a pair of handles that are open ended and do not give a tie down point or easy fitting of a seat pack. Were that not bad enough, while riding it has a disturbing feel to the steering that causes the rider to have to pull the bars back from a turn because it feels like the front wheel wants to fold under the engine. In all, the Honda feels entirely underwhelming and nothing like the Suzuki SV, which is a fire breathing monster in comparison. I miss my dear Sylvie.

So while Sylvie is away I must endure the trials of boredom by Honda and frustration by Insurance Company. Now to be fair, this has very little to do with my Insurance company and I can now fully recommend CIA Insurance (although I am profoundly grateful to not have to be dealing with the incompetent MCE at the moment. God alone knows what kind of a mess they would have made of this!), who have gone out of their way to be helpful with Sylvie. They have passed Sylvie over to a company called Plantec and it is from Plantec that I have had the hire bikes. Now having never heard of Plantec, I was more than a little worried about giving them my bike. Internet feedback seemed poor and advice from trusted people in know like dear old Lozzo from the SV forum made me even more worried. However, armed with good advice from these sources, I was and am still prepared for war. So far though, Plantec have been very good, with regular weekly updates on progress with Sylvie, checking that I am happy with the hire bikes and that I am able to perform pre-ride checks. Their service has so far been very good, I just hope that this remains to be the case and that Sylvie is returned to me very soon, especially as I am not sure that I could survive a long trip on the Honda, I might die of boredom first!

So, that is the ongoing Sylvie story, I feel like I have had a limb removed while she is away, luckily Carol has been a rock and continues to be so. As for my friend who knocked Sylvie over, she continues to be my friend, I just hope that dealings with insurance companies do not mess that up, she was extremely sorry and knowing how much I love my bike, shed a tear or two with me. Bless...

Yes, Bless her. In my newly acquired official capacity as a Reverend, I can bless her, I am just not sure as what Deity, if any, I should choose to bless her with!

Burn, you sinners!

Not being the overly religious type, not really believing in God and not liking religion makes it hard to be a Vicar in this modern world, but I do not see why only men who wear dresses (and possibly harm children) are allowed to perform such duties! After all, I am very well educated woman, I have an excellent vocabulary (although it is littered with filthy words and vile terms!) and I am able to listen to people while providing a kind and sympathetic ear. 

Now I feel that I have to explain my actions a little, after all I would not want you thinking that I am something of a hypocrite. I have a very strong and profound belief in something very dear. It is not in a deity, for in truth I am not sure that there is room in our universe for such a being, however my faith if you want to call it that is in something far more tangible. My faith dear reader is in you. I have faith that you as a human being are capable of many great things and many great acts of kindness and courage. If you take away the spooky stuff from religion, you are left with a moral code, if you remove the political nastiness from that moral code, you are left with some pretty basic good stuff. Be nice to each other, don't murder each other and enjoy life.

So ladies and gentlemen of my flock, this is my sermon to you.

Go forth and enjoy your lives, show kindness to those about you, hug those you care for, do something that promotes human rights and most of all, watch out when reversing your car near my bike!

Bless you, now go and have some great sex with someone of the same or opposite gender to yourself!

Love each other and listen to lots of brutal black metal!

A Curious Adventure to the Bulldog Bash

Yeah, we went to the Bulldog Bash. We loaded our bikes up, we rode to Stratford Upon Avon and we camped for three days in a field of bikers. Well field does not even come close, it was a town made up of Bikers, fifty thousand Bikers. That is more people than live and work in some towns. We camped in a field that was populated by bikers, organised by Bikers and Policed by Bikers. In some respects what happens here is a new state and the UK is left at the front gate, in there you are under Biker Law and some times you can feel it.

Loaded up and ready to go.

The twenty fifth Bulldog Bash was a fantastic event, as a complete virgin of the event I was a little apprehensive of what to expect. I had heard stories of who it was organised by and having read a little into it, I was just a bit worried when we set off. Our bikes were loaded with tents, bedding, stoves and one plastic kitchen sink. My panniers were full to literally bursting point (I am still to have that seam fixed!) and everything we could squeeze in was packed in water proof bags!

My MP3 player was playing some very nice chilled out Black Metal as we headed onto the Motorway and we made our way through heavy traffic. Sadly the other carriageway was blocked due to a nasty accident and as we drew level with it, emergency crews were helping people from crumpled vehicles. Having heard the stories of Carol’s late father, himself a Paramedic and Ambulance man, I wished all of those hurt a fast and painless recovery, but doubted that it would be the case for all of them.

Leaving the Motorway and turning onto the A46 was a time to relax, the road here is lovely and riding a fully loaded bike was a pure joy. Carol was leading the way still and we were making easy progress. The excitement was starting build, my first Bulldog Bash. Butterflies flapped in my tummy with excited apprehension. 

Seemed like a nice place to stop!

Getting there is an adventure, after some brief stops for a rest and a slight deviation we approached the main gate, from here things were to get very interesting. The first sight of the event is a broken old aeroplane on the approach to the site; a gravel road leads to the main gate and series of scary looking, but very polite bikers who issued us with our bright orange wrist bands. From here on in, we were under a new kind of freedom, I could feel it in the air and on my skin.

Carol and I bought a new tent for this trip, a Vango Orchy 400, a tent big enough to sleep a football team. Well OK, maybe that is an exaggeration. We chose the tent especially because it is big enough to fix a motorbike in the porch. Technically, we could fit both motorbikes and both of us with all of our gear in our tent. It is for this reason that we chose it, after all who wants to be sat on a rainy campsite trying to fix a broken down bike while getting cold, wet and covered in mud? Not us.

Home sweet home!

Our tent did not go with out comment, but for us it was perfect. Once pitched, out came our air bed which was inflated thanks to Sylvie’s battery. With home made and the furniture set out, we went exploring, orange wrist bands giving us freedom of the town. Some of what I saw appalled me, some of what I saw amazed me and some of what I saw was more fun than anything I have done before.

There was one aspect of the Bulldog that I found very difficult to deal with and technically it was nothing to do with the event. One of the stores who shall remain nameless had several flags flying above its tent, flags of a seriously dubious nature baring Swastikas and the double lightening strike lettering of the SS. As a member of Amnesty International, as a free thinking human being and as firm anti fascist believer, I found these flags to be very offensive to my very heart and soul. The stall itself was selling BB Guns, knives, cross bows, catapults and seriously dodgy looking porn. Maybe it was innocent, but it made me feel very uncomfortable being on a site with company that was flying eight large and different Nazi flags.

On a more positive note, there were many things that amazed me, the biggest if which was the numbers of friendly, happy people. With a campsite the size of a town, I expected some disturbances and yet we only got disturbed by the sound of the drag strip opening at Nine in the morning! I slept better at the Bulldog, in our double sleeping bag, on our soft airbed than I do at home. I don’t think that anyone said an unkind word to us at any point of the weekend. Many towns have far worse behaviour on a Friday night that I saw at the whole of the Bulldog Bash. It is interesting to reflect on why that was and at one point while stood in the early hours of the morning, outside a toilet block waiting for Carol to come out, I realised that I felt safer stood there among all of those strangers than I did in my home town on a Saturday afternoon. Everywhere I looked were big burly and friendly bikers, who were having fun, enjoying a relaxed weekend and just keeping themselves to themselves. Our towns could learn a thing or two.

The Biker Town at night, peaceful and calm.

My introduction to the drag strip was frankly brilliant. As I sat there bike after bike roared up that strip recording speeds and times that just got better and better. The track glistened like wet leather in the hot sunshine, perfect Tarmac, smooth and dark and needle straight. What made my day was watching a rider on a bike that had a wire basket on the back blast up that track, front wheel arcing through the air with the engine screaming. Eleven seconds from start to the gate and not once did that rider lose control of that bike. The dark blue Suzuki SV650S with the loud can that recorded time after time after time up the track and just kept going gave me the seed of an idea, maybe one day I could blast my precious Sylvie up that track too? Carol and I talked about her sending Noreen down the track, but we chose against it in the end preferring to sit and watch as race after race took place. Yet as I sat there on the top row of the stands, looking down through the rickety structure, stomach slightly tense due to my fear of heights, I could not help but smile as the smell of burned rubber and exhaust gasses passed by me on the breeze.

It is pretty high up there!

 Then came the serious stuff, the bikes with huge engines, burning special fuel, spinning huge rear tyres that sat in long extended frames. A sense of urgency appeared on the track for the first time as these bikes sat there rumbling like old diesel trucks, turbos occasionally blowing off unwanted pressure. Burnouts sent plumes of smoke up into the air, the smell like exotic perfume to my gentle virgin nose. Then came the noise as each bike sprinted like shooting stars along that quarter mile straight line of perfect black. Something in my heart went click and I knew that I had found something very, very special. Those bikes, the incredibly determined riders upon them hit speeds I can only dream of on my precious SV. I saw the first bike blast through the gate in a fraction over nine seconds. Then came one that scored an eight second run.

Now that is a bike for fun only!

The jet car, Fire Force, deserves a special mention here. Nothing can prepare you for that thing. Having seen that thing run I can rest easy knowing that out there some where is a man called Martin who is an absolute speed demon. Starting the engine, a former Pratt and Whitney Helicopter engine, takes a special set of kit that is held in a van. The engine starts with a whine that can be heard all over the site, then a blast as fuel in injected, the engine speed picks up, the whine increased in pitch and then another blast of more fuel. The wall behind the car was visibly shaking as the thrust from that engine blasted into it. It takes about fifteen minutes to get the car ready, they play with the smoke by dumping diesel into the combustion chamber and the cloud hides the final seconds as the car is made ready before gently creeping to the line. Then some one takes a hammer to your ear drums! It truly felt like some one had hit me in the centre of my ears as that car fled past where we sat. A speed of nearly three hundred Miles per hour, a quarter mile of track covered in five seconds. I left the stands in a daze, I had just seen something impossibly dangerous and it changed the feel of my blood in my veins. One day, I am going to ride my bike down that track as furiously fast as I am able.

The Jet car ambles past at close to 300MPH!

Coming back again.

 After that show, nothing else can compare. We chatted to other bikers, we shared stories of silliness and lonely breakdowns and we shared in a community spirit that I rarely see else where. Children were rare, but those present were polite and well behaved. The food court had more choice than we could try in one weekend and cost more than we could earn in one month. The stalls on the main shopping area had everything from Army Surplus to Exotic leather goods. Carol managed to persuade me try on a Leather waist coat and to be honest I fell in love with it. With my badges attached and two little patches sown onto the back, she looked at and approved. I was now a proper biker.

Packed and ready to head for home again.

Packing everything back down and back onto our bikes was a sad affair. If I am honest I did not wish to go home, back to the humdrum of work and paying Council Tax and washing dishes in a dish washer. I was happy on the road, packing what I needed onto my bike wearing little and washing when I could. The sun was kind to us and the rain clouds kinder, the ground was warm and dry for leaving the field. Three gentlemen camped opposite proved that the old school and the new generation could ride together and enjoy it just the same. The family next to us, the children grown up and riding their own bikes, spoke only in kind words and good humour. After a weekend like that, why would anyone want to return home to the normality of a street where people stare because you ride a dirty great big motorcycle?

George, Mark and Henry. Teacher and former pupils enjoying bikes as friends.

The Bulldog Bash for me was not a bike rally, it was a visit to a town populated by bikers who no matter what all do something with as much joy and passion as I do, they live for that moment when riding the bike fills the heart with joy. It did not matter if they were a teenage Dance music fan or pension paid grandma, they were there for the same reason I was, because they loved bikes.

Stopping for breakfast on the way home.

Congratulations to Rachel and Jan, with love from Curious Adventures

Yes folks, my dear friend Rachel has tied the knot and got married to her fabulous partner Jan and seeing them dancing together at the party after it was obvious just how much in love they were.

So what has this got to do with Motorbikes you may ask? Well, now there is a story all of its own.

Carol and I woke up good and early on Saturday morning, the previous evening had been spent sorting out clothing, hats and shoes and then packing it all into the panniers. The weather forecast warned of showers, so everything was packed into waterproof bags and sealed in good and tight. The panniers were slung over Sylvie and Noreen before being secured into place. Sadly other things had conspired against us and we were now running late, but this was time that we hoped to make up once out on the open road.

Riding a fully loaded Sylvie for the first time was interesting and to be honest, she had barely changed her gentle road manners. She was still very easily flickable and cornered with her usual good grace. My chain oiler was full of brand new and specially formulated oil thanks to the lovely folks of Tutoro Chain Oilers  and we hit the road.

(https://www.facebook.com/tutoro.chainoiler or http://www.tutorochainoiler.com/)

Getting out of Weston was interesting and I picked up a tail in the form of two guys on those huge BMW GS1200 touring bikes, loaded up for a weekend break. Having left them behind in traffic I headed out of town to wait for Carol at our meeting point.

While waiting I noticed a huge amount of other bikers had the same idea, so this is the last petrol station we hit before the motorway, but even so, there were loads of them, ranging from Harleys to Hondas and Sports bikes to mopeds. It felt like every loved two wheels on that day.

I heard Carol approach before I saw her. Noreen has something of a characteristic exhaust note, or rather bellow. She pulled in and then together we headed off into the world of traffic that is the M5 on a Saturday afternoon. Sylvie picked up speed and we managed to get past the first of a series of numpties that we would meet. If I have any questions it would be this. Why would you drive your car onto the motorway at 40 miles per hour and then stay at that speed? Were it an old car I could understand, but this was a recent modern car. Oh I know why, it is because you are on the telephone!

So we blasted off into the distance, but traffic was heavy approaching Bristol and it stayed heavy until we cleared the M5/M4 interchange. Getting onto the M4 was surprisingly easy but traffic was still slow, finally we made it through and our speed picked up to real motorway speeds, progress was now being made. My MP3 player was gently singing away with such delights as Dissection and Slayer before a muffled raw of Dark Funeral live kicked in. Black Metal and Motorcycle touring, never before has this unholy alliance been so comfortable.

Loaded and ready to go, Jayne has a stretch!

 Talking of comfort, Sylvie has had a lot of work done to her (as documented else where in this here blog) to make her comfortable for long trips, but one thing we have not been able to modify yet is the super hard seat. Usually with in five miles, my back side is pounded to burger mince, but not this day. We made it all the way to our first stop at Leigh Dellamare services with out so much as a bum ache. We did need a wee though. From here we blasted along just enjoying the sunshine and riding together.

Riding long distances with your partner (or friend too come to that) is just awesome. I looked at Carol as she piloted Noreen along the motorway and she looked so serene, sat there doing what she does best, which is riding bikes very, very well. She noticed my quick glance (how does that happen? You look at some one on the motorway for a second and they notice and look back, even if they are asleep! Actually, riding bikes while asleep is dangerous, so don’t do it!) and I got a smile back.

Another wee stop at Membury and then back on the road. Traffic was still light here, but we both knew that London was going to be hectic. I was a little anxious about it to be honest, but Carol assured me I would be fine. Handy having a Senior Motorcycle Instructor Trainer as your girlfriend. Finally we stopped for fuel at Heston Services and prepared for the final long haul into the centre of London. The MP3 player was put away and the Sat Nav switched on. Bloomsbury Hotel here we come!

Passing under the M25 signalled for the traffic to start getting manic. With busses, cars, mopeds and cyclists every where and pedestrians with no sense of traffic fear walking in the road, London is a place to be cautious. Carol led the way as usual with her fine skills, I swear that she has a homing pigeon roosting in her brain that guides us to anywhere we want to go. She seems to know instinctively where we are at all times and I am starting to suspect that actually she is a Skynet Terminator turned to good! So using Carol’s inbuilt Sat Nav and the Tom Tom, we navigated through London heading towards Bloomsbury, the roads crossed and confused me, we went down roads going one way and then the other and to me it felt like we had entered a great labyrinth, luckily there was no minotaur to fight at the centre!

The Girls relaxing in the sunshine.

Then with less than a mile to go we hit major road works and the traffic halted. Passing along that final mile took nearly forty minutes. My engine temp gauge started to creep up and Sylvie was humming along at just over boiling point, thankfully she was well topped up with coolant. Noreen though was less happy. Her eleven hundred CC lump was getting hotter by the minute and sat in traffic that was moving in a speed measured in Snail time was not helping. With the end in sight we managed to find the street we wanted and there on the side of the road was a motorcycle park, two small spaces next to each other in an otherwise full parking lot.

The most impressive thing about parking in London is the Stainless Steel Ground anchors fixed into the road! With Sylvie and Noreen locked to these with no less than five locks, we dashed off to the hotel room to get changed. Noreen was still steaming away like a kettle on boil!

Our precious bikes locked up and secure.

The wedding reception was lovely in every way that such a thing can be lovely. The two young brides both looked elegant and beautiful in matching outfits and shoes, Jazz singer was crooning away and the music sounded wonderful. Despite my inherent dislike of Jazz, I found myself enjoying the entertainment and I wandered around the room finding friends long missed and thought never to be seen again.

The venue.

So a small message to those who are dear to me because we barely had time on the night.

Xander, you sir are a Scholar and a Gentleman, you also have such a kind, strong & gentle heart. You make a great little Brother.

Sam and kat, you are both wonderful beautiful women. It is wonderful to see you happy Sam.

Laura and Debbie, so little time to talk and yet so many happy memories. We must go and play soon

Pam and Mig, such a perfect couple and you both looked gorgeous. I have missed you Pam.

Gil and Jim, so lovely to see you again after so long, Gil still looks incredible.

But most of all, Rachel and Jan, you are perfect. Rachel, you are the best friend any one could ever wish for. Your grace and poise is evident in every thing you do and you are more lovely than ever. Jan, I have not met you before, but I can see how you won Rachel’s heart. The smile on her face when you are near is radiant.

Carol and I both wish you every happiness together, life will sometimes be hard and sometimes it will seem cruel, but as long as you love and care for each other, these things will pass you by with barely a mark on your hearts. Seeing you both together and so in love fills us all with a sense of good things for the future, not just for you both, but for the world to.

The evening ended and Carol and I headed back to the Hotel. Our room was stiflingly hot, the window barely opened and the duvet on the bed would have turned it into a furnace. So with the fan on and under a thin sheet, we snuggled down for a night of well deserved rest.

The Orwellian building as seen from our room, Minilove maybe?!

The following morning, I awoke and headed to the shower, it was so cool and refreshing, but the water seemed too slow…

I returned to the bed and sat with Carol for a while before she too made her way to the shower. She turned it on and waited. She turned it on more and still waited. No more water was to fall from that shower on that day. So it was a quick wash in the sink. She turned on the tap and waited. After half an hour she boiled the little amount of water left in the kettle and washed using that. It seemed that our hotel had maybe not paid it’s water bill!

We loaded our kit and headed back into London traffic. There were fire engines and ambulances roaring to and fro and sirens wailing for a fair bit of the time, but Carol and I were blissfully unaware of the rioting that took place while we slept in a different part of town!

Stopping for breakfast.

Negotiating the traffic was still stressful and once again we stopped at Heston services for fuel before heading back onto the motorway. The threats of rain turned into showers, but fortunately we had seen it coming and were already in our water proofs. It could rain as much as it liked, we were toasty and dry.

That lasted until just outside of Chippenham. A sudden increase in rain and then the flashes of lightening pointed to a storm. The rain that was hitting the road was bouncing four feet back into the air. Road spray made seeing cars running with out lights on hard work and our speed dropped to that of an elderly tortoise on a roasting hot day! Progress was slow. Then suddenly a barrier gave way and I felt the cold chill of rain water find it’s way through the outer layer of my riding kit and soak through to my smalls! It was like some one had poured a glass of water into my underwear, soaking my clothing. It was so cold and I was starting to shiver. Our last stop was at Gordano services, a top up with fuel and bit of chocolate was enough to warm us through for the final few miles home.

Minutes later, we were soaked by an electrical storm.

In total we clocked up just over two hundred and eighty miles, we each used two tanks of fuel and drank several pints of tea, coffee or hot chocolate. I saw some very dear friends and witnessed one of the dearest to me looking so radiantly happy I could have cried with joy. I also rode my bike in the busiest place I have ever been to and survived with out a scratch. Sylvie performed flawlessly despite having a thirty three BHP restrictor kit fitted and Noreen barely spluttered even when her fuel tap was turned to reserve.  My Tutoro Chain oiler was three quarters used when I got home and I swear that it made a difference to the ease at which my precious Sylvie ran.

What a wonderful weekend. We owe a huge debt of thanks to Rachel and Jan for inviting us and providing us with somewhere to sleep that was both safe and quiet. We most sincerely wish Rachel and Jan a very long and happy future together, filled with love, fun and all of the things that make life so rewarding.

I don't want to ride in London, I is scared!

Meet Noreen, the ZRX1100.

With the sad passing of Carol's Gran, Noreen, we named a bike after her so that we will always remember her. This is a video blog of our day out to collect Noreen, the Kawasaki ZRX1100.

Sorry about the bad jokes and poo comments! Also, if you know that cats can swim, do please leave a comment below. Actually, why not leave us a comment anyway? Love from us XXX

Time to remember

Sad news this month, June 2011 sees the passing of Nanny Noreen, Carol's Nan and a woman who has shown me considerable kindness. I know that Carol was deeply upset, Nan might have been approaching her nineties, but she was never an old woman and she kept her dignity right to the end. She also kept her faith in humanity right to the end and passed away still a confirmed atheist. Her funeral was a gentle affair and we listened to some of her music as we walked in and I was asked to make a reading of a poem that I had found for her.

If I should die before the rest of you 
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone 
Nor, when I'm gone, speak in a Sunday voice, 
But be the usual selves that I have known. 
Weep if you must 
Parting is hell. 
But life goes on. 
So sing as well.

Joyce Grenfell

Her funeral was not meant to be a sad time, she was always a strong and graceful woman, who stayed strong willed and dignified right to the end. So it seems fitting that we should live on as she would want, being brave, being strong and most of all being ourselves.

When I passed my bike test I was very pleased with myself and I am sure that I blogged here that the first place we went on my first road ride on Sylvie, the massively huge and powerful bike that she felt back then was to see Nanny Noreen. I actually fell off Sylvie in the car park right outside her flat, but she never teased me or made me feel small for my mistake.

So in her honour we present a new friend to the fold. In this way, Our Nan will always be with us, not just in our hearts and our memories, but in tribute too. I present Noreen, the Kawasaki ZRX1100.

Named in honour of a dear old lady, much loved and much admired. We will be collecting her on Saturday and introducing her to the girls in the garage. 

Take care out there folks and if you too have an elderly Nan you have not seen for a while, but love dearly, pop round for a cuppa. You never know when you will see her next.

It's a crazy Rosie Update!

Yes folks, we have been hard at it once again in an mad effort to get the bikes up and running for the summer and we have so much work to do.

The first bit of good news is that Rosie runs! Carol turned the key, hit the starter and the engine refused the catch, the full petrol can sat just out of eye shot, but for some reason the GTR engine would not fire. We tried for ages and the petrol can, freshly filled that morning still sat untouched in the gloom of the garage, while we scratched our heads. Then the light came on.

So after we had transfered the fuel from the can into Rosie's Tank, she coughed and spluttered in to life. She ran and in doing so shot most of her exhaust baffles out onto the concrete behind her. Oh dear, bang goes the idea quite literally of getting the exhausts repaired. Thankfully, E-Bay came to our rescue once again. A new system will be winging it's way to us very soon.

So the pictures of what we have been up to. Well it is a case of taking everything off and reconditioning the lot. Let the strippers commence...

Sylvie, Carol, Rosie and Agnes

That was hard work, but it is now off!

Look at what Sylvie spat out!

Exhaust envy

The Stripper has been here!

Starting to look less rusty as the rust falls off!

So taken off so far is the Radiator and fan, exhaust system and the plastics, almost ready to start on the really hard stuff like the centre stand and fork legs. Then we can start painting and putting back together.
I used to love motorbikes, now I have dirty black nails and sore hands, I think it is time I gave this up as a bad joke!

Faster, faster, faster

Well there is so much to tell you since we last spoke.

First of all, congratulations to our friend Luke who passed his bike test last Thursday. He was finally able to join us on his lovely Honda Hornet for Weston Bike Night, his first as a big bike rider. It was really nice to see him on his bike and enjoying it, although Carol picked us both up for getting excited and forgetting our life saver looks. Oops...




This weeks event started with an argument between Carol and I. Who was going to ride the Honda CG? As a dyed in the wool biker, it would not look good for Carol to turn up to bike night on a ratty training bike, however, whose Suzuki is it? So after a game of paper, scissors, stone, Carol just thumped me and I learned my place! Actually, Carol is my lass and she looks great on the SV. I can hardly show her off if she is on the little bike, it also gives my neck a chance to recover from riding the Suzuki's clip on bars.

As for Bike Night, what an evening out that was. I had heard from a few folks on the SV forum that they were going to take a ride over and come and say hello. Leading the pack would be Gruntygiggles and her other half Stretchie. Not having met these people before, I was a little shy as always, but they were both really lovely people. Tagged along with them were half of the South West area SV owners, ( Squirrel Hunter, Beenz, BaP, BrisRob and a load whose names I can't remember) and old faithfuls Dan, (aka Metalhead), Stu (aka Nemesis) with his new and very noisy can and finally Lloyd, on his lovely Fireblade. After a brief stop on the sea front, we headed over to Scallys and just made it in time for the last of the Hog Roast. Well I say Hog Roast, when we got there, there was a pigs head on the cooker! Being a recent convert back to a carnivore life style, a pigs head was a little too much for me and I settled for a nice burger instead.

For those of you not familiar with Scallys, it is Weston's premier biker friendly pub and on Bike Night it is a great place to sit and chill after the heat and the chaos that is the sea front. It is also a place where Carol can catch up with old mates and swap gossip, the funny thing about a group of bikers like this is that although they look dead hard and a bit scary, in club patches and leathers, they are actually a lot of fun and rather sweet.

Carol deserted me at the pub and wandered off to chat to her mates, but I did not mind because I was with my new friends from the SV forum and we chatted until late into the evening. I was a little sorry to hear that one of the lads had had an off on the way over, but he was OK and the damage was minimal to his bike. Being a new rider myself, I can understand the fear of loose corners while going a touch too fast. After a while though, they all had to head back home to Wiltshire and when Gruntygiggles started her little Blade, there were appreciative comments the locals in the pub. It sounded like a Blade should, a steady growl that you knew would turn into a howl on the faster roads. Having waved them off, I went to find Carol and found her in a gaggle of bikers discussing the merits of a 33BHP restriction, yeah she blew my cover again and had told a load of hard bikers that actually, I am a little girly with a half power bike... Thanks for that Babe!

The trip home was refreshingly cool after the days heat and One of Carol's mates had a lift on the back of Sylvie to enjoy some toasted home made bread and a nice cuppa. It is so nice to see Carol with her old mates, she tends to shine when she is happy, and tonight she was glowing.

Thursday night rolled over into Friday morning and I had long since retired to bed. A bit of bad news dropped through the letter box, but it was nothing that could not be sorted by a ride out on the bikes. I prepped Sylvie and got Henry ready while Carol got the filming equipment sorted out. With one camera mounted on the front of Sylvie and another mounted on the rear of Henry, we could film each other riding to Cheddar and up the gorge. Well, that was the plan.

Henry was poorly. He would cough and splutter and then he cut out. Carol pulled over and gave him a check over and he spluttered back to life. Half a mile down the road, he was poorly again and once again Carol had to pull over. This time she drained the Carb, thinking that there was contaminated fuel. The liquid, splashed out and steamed away on the hot engine. Funny, it did not look too much like petrol to me. After that Henry started, roared and Carol shot off down the road like a race horse at full gallop. Even on Sylvie, I found it hard to catch up. Following Carol is brilliant, even on a 125CC bike, she is fast and smooth. Following her lines on the road makes the bike feel like a thoroughbred and I will admit that I got a little scared. Even at road legal speeds, Sylvie can feel a little too much for me and I had to back off. Yes, I am a wimp for not keeping up with a Honda CG125, but with Carol piloting, Henry is a road racer.

The rest of the trip to Cheddar was smooth and easy, however riding the clip ons was getting to a stage where my right hand went numb, we have a plan to sort this out with a bar conversion, but until we can afford the new brake lines, Sylvie will just have to make do with standard bars. Our arrival in Cheddar took us to the chip shop and we picked up lunch before loading it into Sylvies pack and then riding off up the gorge. Cheddar Gorge is beautiful and as a rider, one really must concentrate on the road and not the surrounding cliffs. As a Climber, all I wanted to do was pull over and get some serious climbing done, but since taking up motorcycling, climbing is on a back burner for me for a while, due to needing hundreds of pounds of new equipment. The quality of the road though more than made up for wanting to go climbing and some of those twisty sections were lovely.




Well pulled off the main drag and headed over to a place called Velvet Bottom, the road looked like it was made of loose gravel, which worried me slightly and I slowed right down again. Sylvie may have big wide tyres, but that is of little use when the surface is moving about. Thankfully, it all seemed to be solid and I was able to find my rhythm again and could get back up to speed. Turning around at the top though was a moment and I had little choice but to mount the grass verge due to a narrow road. Sylvie was impeccably well mannered about it all and showed little signs of slipping on the mud and grass. We parked up in a layby and wandered off to enjoy our chips.

After lunch we pulled our bike gear back on despite the heat and headed back down to Cheddar for a cuppa and an Ice Cream. The road back down was even more fun than riding up it, mainly because I had got used to the strange surface, I could still not keep up with Carol though and eventually we pulled into the Car Park in the village centre. As is the way with Carol, she immediately started chatting to the other bikers parked up and once again started to talk about learner riders. Once again I was outed for being on a half power bike and my street cred and cool oozed away. Thanks again Babe! It is a good job that I don't ride bikes to look cool, I ride bikes because I love to do so. The Scottish couple were on a long tour and loving every moment of the open road and the Guy with the Ducati was a local to Weston. after our Ice cream and cuppa, we decided to head home, both of us tired from the riding and the heat.

After a day out like this, what was required was a nice session of skinny dipping in a nice cool clean river, sadly the River in Cheddar is a little open to public view so we had to make do with going home and having a nice shower instead. What a great couple of days out though, beautiful views, great roads and meeting some really lovely people, I doubt it can get better than that, although a big bike for Carol would be one way. If any friendly Kawasaki Dealers would like to donate a bike to her for our adventures, we would love you forever.